


Trapped in Eternity

by Skyleaf19



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is NOT Okay, Ace needs a hug, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 100,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyleaf19/pseuds/Skyleaf19
Summary: It always ends the same. Oyaji dies. The Whitebeards fall apart. Ace himself dies too, sometimes during Marineford, sometimes before, sometimes after. It doesn't matter what Ace does, how he acts, or his choices. If he joins the Whitebeards, they die for him. This time, Ace will make sure it's different. When they ask him to join them, he'll say no and leave as soon as they hit the next island. Simple, right? As if. Guess he'll have to convince them he's not worth their lives. Time travelling/looping Ace.Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net.This fic has a TV Tropes page.





	1. Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings: None. There will be no romance.
> 
> Timeline: Pre-'canon'. I guess I'll call it AU because… reasons. ;)
> 
> Warnings: Cursing (They're pirates. What do you expect?) Violence and blood. Angst. Ace has issues. Lots of issues. Ace also has a flippant attitude towards his own death. Ace is NOT okay. Spoilers for One Piece.

Seventeen year-old Portgas D. Ace opened his eyes to a familiar wooden ceiling. He breathed deeply and emptied his lungs, taking a moment to feel the air move through his body. The scent of wood and the ocean air tickled his nose and he did it again, and again, timing the breaths with the rocking of the ship below. The cycle of respiration was calm and methodical, each inhale and exhale gentle and slow. On the tenth peaceful breath, he settled back on his pillow and spoke to the empty room.

"Dammit."

Ace pressed his hands against his eyes, dragging them down his face as he sat up. His fingers drifted to his throat and he grimaced, recalling the horrific sensation of choking on his own blood. The Fire Logia sat back, leaning against the headboard, and bounced his head off the wall absentmindedly as he went over what led to his most recent demise.

He had lasted seven years this time and made it to age twenty-five. During those seven years he had joined the crew, become Second Division Commander, managed to stop Teach as he was about to kill Thatch, saved Luffy in Alabasta, avoided the entire Marineford debacle, and even joined the Straw Hats, Heart Pirates, and their allies in the battle against Kaido. Things had been going pretty smoothly, all horrific alternatives considered, like they usually did whenever Teach was out of the picture.

Then, out of nowhere, the Whitebeard Pirates had gotten in a war with the Marines again because someone blabbed that Ace was Roger's son. The Logia did not know who had done it or why, and did not live long enough to find out. The Yonko's crew was strong, but one case of bad circumstances led to another and suddenly the Moby Dick had been ambushed and sunk in the sea.

Ace himself had been one of those 'lucky' enough to survive, only for the Marines to kill the rest of them then and there. Apparently Akainu did not want to give the Whitebeard Pirates a chance to escape or be rescued before they were publically executed so he had his men slash all the pirates' throats. Overall, not the worst death Ace had experienced, but not the least painful either.

Indeed, it was not his death that darkened his thoughts. His only issue was that— once again— the Whitebeards fell because of him.

Ace closed his eyes, the memory of the smoking hole in Oyaji's chest and Marco's mangled corpse rising to the front of his mind. He swallowed, breathing in the smell of the sea and wood and trying to convince himself that the smell of burning flesh did not accompany the more welcome scents.

Forcing away the memories, Ace opened his eyes and took off his yellow shirt, craning his neck to look at his bare back. Even after all these loops, it was still disconcerting to see the lack of his father's mark there. In all honestly, he  _should_  be used to it though. He always woke up at age seventeen, after he had been 'chosen' by the Whitebeard Pirates, but before he actually joined their ranks. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason why he woke up exactly when he did but it was always within those hundred days.

Ace sighed and put his shirt back on, turning on his bed and putting his forehead on his knees. Usually he would take time to reflect on his latest misadventure and figure out how to avoid the latest deaths of his loved ones, but he was so damned  _sick_  of it all. Sick of Teach killing and betraying his brothers and father. Sick of fighting in wars caused by his parentage. Sick of seeing his family die again and again because he wasn't quick enough, or did not remember to save them, or was too far away to do anything when the tidal wave of unforeseen circumstances his different decisions created decided his family needed to die.

Some aspects of the loops were predictable and could be easily replicated or avoided the next time, but there was always the chance that Ace would mess up and cause a butterfly effect. An effect which usually resulted in someone he cared about getting axed off. How many times had he looped by now? Over five hundred? A thousand? He'd repeated the same five to ten years so many times he had lost count. The oldest he had ever gotten was thirty. The big three oh. Nearly thirteen whole years. But that was so long ago that he barely remembered the events of that timeline.

 _And that's the problem, isn't it?_  Ace thought, pulling at his hair.  _I always screw up and drag my family down with me._

At least he could say they didn't get killed because of his pride anymore. That flaw had been slaughtered out of him after a few dozen failed attempts to take out opponents too strong for him. True, strength wasn't as much as a problem anymore, but it was still best to be cautious.

After all, he would not know exactly when he would wake next, and those hundred optional days could prove to be absolutely hellish. Another 'fun' feature of his trips through time was that everything before his new starting point reset to the good old original timeline. If he killed Teach and got killed a few weeks later, and reset to a few days after he killed the bastard? Said bastard would be alive like nothing happened. It made acting against threats during those days pretty much useless. Lately it felt like acting at all was becoming useless overall. He could die at any time and undo all the work he had done to stop a certain fat bastard.

At least his strength and powers stuck with him, for the most part. He had less muscle mass than he was used to— both because of his age and the fact that he did not eat as much as he needed while with he was a 'prisoner'— but he'd get used to his old body soon enough. Good thing too. Ace might go insane— well, more insane— if he had to build up his abilities from practically scratch every time he started over.

Dying and reliving the same time period was tiring to say the least. At first, Ace had naively assumed he had been sent back to right previous wrongs. Save a certain person. Kill a certain enemy. Stop a certain catastrophe. Do that and the curse would break and he'd just live his life, right? Oh how  _wrong_  he was. He'd defeated Blackbeard, defeated Akainu, defeated the whole damn World Government more once, gone to Raftel, made Luffy Pirate King, made  _Whitebeard_  Pirate King, discovered the hidden history, done  _everything_  he could think of that was the 'reason' he'd been given this so-called  _gift_. It didn't matter what he accomplished. There was no unfinished goal that would break him free of the loops, no end point other than a death that would send him back to the beginning.

Even worse, everything could unexpectedly come crashing down because of a single stupid move. Sometimes his death was an accident. A tumble down some stairs, choking on food, an unexpected narcoleptic attack that sent him over the railing to drown. Dumb things like that. Nine times out of ten he died violently though, usually saving someone he loved. Ace didn't know why he bothered sacrificing himself anymore. Dying only made the loop reset, undoing any deaths he failed to prevent.

Then there were those rare times where he was killed by his own crewmates. Those instances were the opposite of fun. Ace still recalled how he had lost control and killed Teach in one loop and how that— along with a series of other unfortunate events— had led the Whitebeard Pirates to believe  _he_  was the traitor. There was also the time he had temporarily snapped and gone on a blind rampage, only massacring Teach and other traitors through chance until Izo put him down like a rabid dog. Yet even insanity lost its luster after a while. Well,  _acting_  like a wild lunatic did, anyway. He could not exactly will his old version of sanity back into existence.

 _What should I be this loop? Distant and aloof? Chipper and playful? Polite and quiet? Crazy and loud? Myself?_  A bitter smile dragged its way across Ace's lips.  _Yeah, right. I don't even know who I am anymore._

His memories from his life before the loops were choppy at best. He could not recall the names of any of the Spade Pirates and barely remembered Sabo's face. Things like Dadan's shouts and Makino's gentle voice were completely gone, a fact that might have made his heart ache once.

Thank the Gods that he met Luffy during his loops. He'd probably snap— again— if he forgot his brother's smile. And that wasn't even bringing up the fact that Ace had succeeded at breaking his promise to Luffy more than a thousand times, not that the rubber teen would ever know. Heh. Now that he thought about it, he always did break his promises—

" _Promise… me…"_

Ace forced his hands to unclench, exhaling through his nose. He still had the Whitebeard Pirates though, even if he had to forge his bonds with them all over again. As long as he had his family, he could survive. Until he didn't. Or they didn't.

They always didn't.

Bitterness reared its ugly head and Ace snarled, glaring at his sheets. It was all so stupid. No matter how hard he tried, something went wrong. Someone died or betrayed the Whitebeard Pirates, tearing his family apart piece by piece. He'd played peacemaker, warrior, son, assassin, and strategist literally more times than he could count, trying to find the balance needed to make sure they lived until the end. There might not  _be_  an end. He  _never_  reached it, anyway. They rarely did either.

This was not the first time Ace wondered why he bothered trying anymore. Everything he did was undone and meaningless when the next loop started. How many times had he stopped Thatch's death? How many times had he killed Teach and Akainu? How many times had he gone to the same old war, and watched his little brother fulfill his dreams? It was all so… disinteresting now. He had just woken, but he already felt so very tired.

 _I can't do this. I can't watch them die again. Especially not because of me._ An idea formed in his head, one he had thought of many times before but never acted upon.  _What if I left without joining them? I'd finally be able to adventure on my own again, and I wouldn't drag them down with me when my secrets inevitably come to light. I could pop in to save people when I have to… or I could just leave them. When I die, it'll just reset again and all their deaths will be undone._

The plan had come to Ace relatively short into his time traveling escapades. Leave everything behind and strike out on his own, letting the chips fall where they may. He'd still been determined back then, driven to save everyone, but now…

_If I have to go through the same old motions again, I'll go crazy. Bad crazy, not just… whatever I am right now. I need a breather and I need to stop the Whitebeards from dying for me. Why not do both? I just need to hold out until I can leave the ship._

Except depending on when he had woken, the Whitebeard Pirates might not let him go. The Yonko wanted the Fire Logia to be a part of his crew, and what Edward Newgate wanted, he got. Ace couldn't just walk up to him and go 'Hey, I'm leaving before I can cause your death. Bye!' before skipping away. It would be even worse if Ace had gone back to after he had opened up to the crew and become less stingy. They—specifically the Commanders— actually  _liked_  and wanted him by then and would support Whitebeard's decision.

 _But if I'm before that point… maybe I can make them hate me?_  Ace winced but replaced the expression with a grin.  _Just for this loop. It's not like it'll be permanent. I just need a break from having to worry._

His plan was selfish at best but Ace had lived thousands of lives trying to save people. He could be damn selfish just this once and take a vacation.

The door to his room slammed open, interrupting his musing. Ace was on his feet in an instant, hands aflame, but he extinguished the fire when he saw who it was. Marco stormed into the room, scowling. Not his 'you-are-an-irritating-sibling-who-is-in-deep-trouble' scowl, but his 'genuinely-pissed' scowl.

Marco never shot that expression at Ace after he grew to see the Fire Logia's softer side and understand Oyaji's fascination with him. That meant Ace had woken after getting captured but before he started opening up to the crew. Excellent. His personality would not be doing a complete one eighty from the Whitebeard Pirates' point of view. It was always irritating to deal with the suspicion that arose whenever he 'drastically changed overnight'. Suspicions tended to lead to nosy pirates at best, 'enhanced' interrogations at worst.

Ace had long gotten used to the idea that these pirates did not know him yet, so he did not blame them when they overreacted to his 'inconsistent' or 'spy-like' behavior. For all they knew, he could actually be a plant or assassin sent to kill their Captain, using recklessness and feigned ignorance as a cover for a very real threat.

Ace never blamed them. There were many reasons why people knew dark secrets, and time travel was one not even on the Whitebeard Pirates' radars. Not that Ace usually tried to convince them. Doing so had grown tiresome after a while, just like a lot of things.

"Oi! Fire brat!"

Marco snapped his fingers under Ace's nose, drawing him out of his thoughts. Once he saw he had the teen's attention, he continued to speak without giving Ace a chance to respond.

"I know you want to kill Oyaji but that was a real low move you pulled earlier, yoi."

Ace had no idea what attempt he was speaking of. "I'm trying to kill your Captain. Do you expect me to ask him nicely if I can stab him with my knife?"

Growling and stubborn with a bit of hostile bitterness. It was a perfect replica of his old attitude before growing to trust the Whitebeard Pirates in his opinion. Ace was past the point of struggling to act like he was supposed to during those stressful days, falling easily into character with no one the wiser. Especially since these people did not know him.

"That's not the problem. You almost hit one of the nurses, yoi!" Marco snapped.

Ace withheld a wince but relaxed as he recalled the event. It had happened fifteen days into his stay on the Moby Dick. Whenever the near-miss occurred, it was out of his control, happening before his looping self awakened. The attack was a dagger hitting the wall if he remembered correctly. Or was it the axe?

Marco did not take his lack of reaction well. He strode forward, grabbing Ace by his shirt-front and giving him a shake. "What if you killed one of them, yoi?" he snarled.

"Don't worry. I'd kill myself if I did." Ace said casually, shooting the Phoenix a grin.

It was the truth. If he accidentally caused the death of one of his family members with his own two hands, Ace ended the loop, no questions asked. He had done so multiple times already so there was no guilt associated with the act anymore. The first instance had been when he had misjudged his power when half-heartedly attempting to assassinate Whitebeard, his attack missing the Yonko and hitting Thatch head on. The Logia had not let himself live long enough to see the repercussions of his mistake, and always made sure to act decisively if something similar happened again. He would not risk settling in a timeline where he unintentionally murdered one of his loved ones.

 _I'd rather die_ , Ace thought, and held back a snigger.

He realized the Commander was staring at him, only the slight widening of his blue eyes showing his alarm. Ace remembered that he usually did not smile by this point, more prone to scowling and snarling threats at anyone who came near. Oops.

 _Oh no. Marco must be freaking out,_  he thought sarcastically.  _Maybe he'll want to stay away from me because I'm acting creepy! How sad._

…Though if he thought about it, Marco's reaction  _might_  have to do with the fact that Ace admitted he'd take his own life. Didn't people usually respond badly to such things? Double oops. Ace kept his smile firmly in place as the Phoenix gathered himself, running out of steam.

"Just… don't do it again, yoi." He said roughly.

Ace could see he was still off-balance. He considered pushing the many buttons he knew the Phoenix had in order to make him explode but delayed his mission. He was tired and wanted to sleep. He could make them despise him tomorrow. The Logia sat on the bed in a purposely slouched position, arms crossed mockingly.

"Do you need anything else?" He made his voice harsh, jeering, like he was speaking to an enemy he wanted nothing more than to punch in the face.

"No, yoi." Marco said stiffly.

Wow. Ace must have  _really_  surprised him. The Phoenix was usually more in control, showing nothing but an unflappable demeanor. Or maybe the Logia had simply learned to read him like an open book over time. He laid down and rolled onto his side so his back was to Marco, intentionally dismissing him in a rude manner.

"Well if that's all, I'd like to sleep if you don't mind." Tone snappish and cold. Perfect.

"It's noon." The Phoenix pointed out.

Ace inhaled and exhaled, fighting off the mental exhaustion that sought to claim him. "Don't care. Get out or I'll fry you."

He heard Marco hesitate in the doorway and lit a hand on fire, lifting it with his middle finger extended and showing the Phoenix.

The Commander did not retreat, scoffing. "You know if you keep acting like this, you won't be making friends on this crew."

"I'm not here to make friends."  _True, this time at least._  "I'm here to kill your Captain."  _Lie. I have to leave to save his life._  "Trust me on this, bird-brain. You don't want me on your crew."

Marco was silent for a long pause. "If you say so, yoi."

Ace heard him leave, shutting the door gently behind him. For a moment his expression crumpled but he forced his pain behind a sneer. It hurt to talk to Marco like that, like he expected the man to stab him in the back first chance he got. If this were a normal loop, Ace would have opened up to the Phoenix and joined the crew after having some time to 'think it over'. Not this time. He had to make the Whitebeards hate him so they would not pursue him when he left.

The Logia settled more comfortably on the bed and immediately began going over the conversation, mindful of any potential slipups. Other than the casual dialogue about suicide, he seemed to be good to go. He just hoped he had not pushed too hard or showed too much. There was a thin line between being an 'ungrateful bastard' and 'silently begging someone to help him'. Ace had learned to fake the former but sometimes wandered into the latter unintentionally, and making the Whitebeard's want to 'fix' him would only hinder his goal this loop.

_Refuse to join. Ditch them at the next island. Go wherever the hell I want until I die again._

In all honesty, that plan may lead him to his first real adventure since he began looping. He would not be bound by points in time and plans to carry out. He could simply… live.

The thought was almost daunting, but Ace was not known for hesitance. Once he escaped the Moby Dick, he'd let the chips fall where they may. He'd explore the world on his own terms, and maybe feel true freedom for the first time in decades. He just had to make sure his brothers and father would not follow him to his death.

It felt like he barely closed his eyes before the sound of the door hitting the wall startled Ace into wakefulness. He grabbed the knife under his pillow, twisting to leap out of bed, and came face to face with a frozen Thatch. The chef shook himself and waltzed forward, setting the tray he carried down on the bedside table with a flourish as if he had not just been menaced with a knife.

"Hello, sunshine!" the Fourth Division Commander greeted brightly. "How are you this fine evening?"

Ace opened his mouth to apologize but remembered when he was just in time. His jaw clicked shut and he scowled. "Don't patronize me."

Thatch held his hands up in a placating manner. "I'm just being polite. There are these things called 'nice manners' that you use when talking to future bro— to guests. Have you heard of them?"

Ace ignored his blatant slip up, internally wincing at the bloody hopefulness in his voice when he said that dreaded word. Any other loop, the fire-user's heart would warm when he heard that from the man that did not yet know him, but not this time. He had to stick to his plan, even if it made his chest feel cold.

"I know what manners are." He spat. "I just don't use them around  _enemies_."

Thatch did not appear to hear the hostility in his tone but Ace knew the chef was taking in every word. "For the hundredth time, we're not your enemies. We're your family. Speaking of whom, how would you like to come with me and meet everyone?"

Ace released a growl right on cue. Apparently it was convincing because Thatch dropped the subject.

"I brought dinner for you." He said cheerfully. "Steak, potatoes, veggies, the whole shebang. And no, it isn't poisoned."

"I don't need your crappy food." Ace hissed.

His stomach wanted to disagree, his abdomen cramping even as he spoke, but he had to refuse. Accepting would make them think he was beginning to trust them, and they could easily become attached. He had to avoid that at all costs. He could handle a few stomach pangs and lost weight until he got off the Moby Dick. If only he could remember when they would hit the next island...

"It's not crappy." Thatch said with a pout, looking affronted. He grabbed the fork and poked a bit of meat, holding it in front of Ace's face. "Come on, you have to eat something. Say 'aaah'!"

Turning his head away, Ace followed his instincts on 'how to be a jerk' and shoved the plate off the table. It landed on the floor with a clatter, the carefully prepared food spilling everywhere. The fire-user's knees locked as he fought the urge to clean up the mess, instead crossing his arms and glowering coldly. If there was one way he knew to get to Thatch, it was through his food. As in insulting or wasting it.

Ace could not pull any punches when dealing with the kind-hearted chef because out of all of the Whitebeard Pirates he was the one who always believed Ace would join them and was willing to put up with Ace's antics to ensure that happened.

When he saw Thatch's face, his stomach's twisting had nothing to do with his hunger. The chef looked like a kicked puppy and Ace had to fight against the instinct to apologize and comfort his friend. Except Thatch was  _not_  his friend. Not in this timeline, not yet, and not ever if Ace had anything to say about it.

_I have to do this to save you. I have to do this so I can leave and you won't follow. I can't lose my resolve._

"I. Don't. Need it." Ace snarled, keeping all his turmoil inside.

Thatch set the fork down on the table. For a second, Ace honestly thought the chef was going to strike him which was ridiculous because Thatch was one of the nicest people the fire-user ever met. He still tensed, arms rising in preparation to protect his face. Something flashed through the Commander's expression and his sadness was replaced by a blank look.

Ace's stomach lurched because just like Marco's scowls, he recognized the mask Thatch wore when trying to hide his emotions from an outsider. The chef was usually smiles and happiness when dealing with family and to see him look at Ace like that hurt. He'd have to get used to it though if he wanted his plan to succeed.

_No regrets._

"Okay then." Thatch said faintly. "I'll see you later."

The old Ace from those first few timelines might have internally panicked, believing the Commander was giving up on him and both wanting and not wanting him to stay. The Ace of now knew it would take much more than this to make Thatch believe he was not worth the effort. He made sure to glare at the chef's back until he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the piece of wood closed and created a barrier between him and the outside world, Ace collapsed inside the closed door, pressing his hands against his eyes. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt them. But he had to insult and berate and push them away or they'd follow him into Hell. If he could, Ace would have simply left the Moby Dick that day, but there weren't any small boats available that could handle the sea they were in. He was stuck until they reached the next island.

Ace did not allow himself to feel miserable about the situation he purposely created. Instead he plotted for how to antagonize each of the Commanders so they'd never think twice about him once he left.

_Haruta hates being called short and takes any threats against Whitebeard personally. (I hate this.) Rakuyo won't be a problem because it took him time to warm up to me even after I officially joined the crew. (I don't want to do this.) Insult Whitebeard enough times in earshot and Vista will probably lose his temper and take a few stabs at me. (I have to do this.) Now that I think about it, I should be good if I continue to snap at everyone, trash talk Oya— their Captain, refuse to help around the ship, and act like an unlikable jerk. (It'll only cause problems for them if I don't do this.) I just have to keep pushing them away. (I can't let them become my family.)_

Ace ignored the thoughts that tried to make him rethink the plan. It all sounded so simple. Ace knew how to be surly and unreasonable. He just had to make sure he did not go too far and cause someone to actually try to kill him. That would be annoying to deal with and he didn't want to be the reason any of the Commanders got in trouble with Whitebeard.

Ace's stomach growled and he grimaced. He supposed he should worry about other things necessary for surviving this loop like eating. If he was judging his weight right, he had already lost a few pounds due to injury and a lack of food. He was somewhere in the 'everyone on this ship is secretly trying to kill me' stage so he probably had not eaten in days unless he fished or stole from the food pantry.

The Fire Logia suddenly got the idea to mess up the food supplies so they would have to go to an island sooner than planned but immediately banished it. There were too many risks— going off course, being too far from an island, getting attacked— and he honestly could not even fathom doing such a thing to his family.

_They're not my family._

The pain in Ace's stomach moved to his chest and he pressed a hand against it, teeth gnashing together. He wouldn't indulge in self-pity. It was a waste of energy and time. He always had to start over with his family and friends, and this time was no different. Well, it was different, but that was inconsequential. Nothing that happened would matter in the end.

Once it was over, Ace would be the only one to remember.

OPOPOPOPOP

It was half-past one in the morning when Marco knocked on his father's bedroom door. Receiving permission to go in, the Phoenix entered, closing the door firmly behind him. Oyaji's light was on and a book sat in his lap, a bottle of sake opened at his side. The blond-haired pirate raised an eyebrow at the alcohol.

"The nurses will kill you if they find out you have that, yoi."

"Which is why you won't tell them, my son." Whitebeard rumbled, a twinkle in his eye. He took a gulp from the bottle, lowering it and setting it on the bedside table. "Now, what is it you wish to speak to me about? You are not usually one of my children that need my advice, and certainly not so late at night."

Marco hoisted himself up onto the bed, feeling like a child next to the Yonko. Perhaps he was a child, coming to see Oyaji in the middle of the night like a kid who'd had a nightmare, but the Phoenix was not too prideful to admit when he needed his father to lend an ear. Marco shifted his weight, settling comfortably, and opened his mouth. He closed it, unsure of where to begin.

"I… spoke to the fire brat— Ace— earlier today, yoi." He started. "About his attack this morning."

Fire Fist's latest assassination attempt had been the first to actually worry Marco in a long time. The Phoenix never feared for his father, but he had never considered that the brat would ambush him with so many other, less adept pirates around. The axe he had thrown at Whitebeard had nearly hit Sage in the arm, an action that had the Yonko firmly knock out the brat and have Thatch drag his unconscious ass back to the unused storage closet that now served as his room.

"I am well aware of the Commanders' nickname for Fire Fist." Whitebeard's lips curled in amusement even as his brow furrowed. "What did he do that has bothered you so?"

Marco looked up at his father, an ugly feeling curling in his gut. "When I confronted the brat about nearly hitting one of the nurses, he said he'd kill himself if he did, yoi."

The Yonko's yellow eyes sharpened. "Was he serious?"

"I don't know." Marco admitted helplessly. "That's what's bothering me. When he said that, he twitched a little, like he wanted to take it back. But it wasn't just his words. It was the look in his eyes. They were…" Tired. Pained. Dull. Empty. "…different. Like something had changed since this morning…" The Phoenix's hands clenched. "I think something's wrong, Oyaji."

Marco could not help but wonder if the grief had always been there and he simply had not noticed before. There was determination as well, but it was muffled by the exhaustion that made Fire Fist's eyes look too old for his young, freckled face.

Whitebeard looked thoughtful, absentmindedly staring ahead. "I saw that something weighed down on the child's soul the moment I saw him but I did not believe it was cause for immediate concern. I had hoped to give him time to open up to the crew but if you think his life is in danger, I may change my mind."

"I just don't know, Oyaji." Marco said after a pause. "But I personally think we should continue watching from a distance. Watching a little more closely, yoi, but just be a little more observant, I suppose." He ran his fingers through his blond hair. "It's only been fifteen days, yoi. We should give him time."

Whitebeard looked at him warmly, approval in his amber eyes, and the Phoenix was caught between chuckling and sighing in exasperation. Of course his father expected him to come to that conclusion and was simply letting Marco go through the process himself. The Yonko liked to see his children mull over their problems and come up with solutions with minimal prodding.

"How strange. Just this morning you were growling about the 'ungrateful fire brat's' antics and yet now it seems like you've grown to care for him." Whitebeard said.

"I wouldn't call it 'care'. Just basic concern out of human decency, yoi." Marco huffed, crossing his arms. "Though I have to admit, I think I saw a bit of why you want him to join us today. The brat has a spark in him, I'll agree with that."

"You didn't agree with me before?" Oyaji pretended to be insulted by his lack of faith in his choices, the twinkle in his eye too noticeable for Marco to take the words as anything but teasing.

"Maybe I still don't." The Phoenix said. "I certainly don't understand exactly why you want him to join our family, but…" He remembered bright, sad grey eyes and a vicious tongue that hid something dark and lonely inside. "…I think I might just learn, yoi."

Whitebeard gave him a mysterious, knowing smile. "I know you will, my son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I go again, making Ace suffer. Why am I so mean to characters I love? ;-;
> 
> I've always wanted to do a time-travel story, but never wanted to write one where the traveler follows canon (I'll leave that to other people). I wanted to do something different but for a long time I didn't know what. Eventually I got inspired and thought "What if a time-looping Ace got sick of seeing the Whitebeards (and Luffy) 'die for him' and decided to leave without joining them to hopefully save their lives?" And from that, this story was born! Needless to say, don't expect things to adhere to canon for long. (grins)
> 
> I'm bringing this over from my fanfiction account. That means there will be updates every Tuesday until I catch up to that version.
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos! Tell me what you think.


	2. Not His Family

It was almost funny how Ace knew the layout of the Moby Dick better than anyone. And it was not just because he had probably spent the longest amount of time on it out of any of them, even Whitebeard and Marco. No, Ace had discovered the ship's many secrets long ago during his first life, finding nooks and crannies to hide from irritating pirates who insisted he become their brother or to use as an ambush point. Obviously his attacks never hit Whitebeard but those little niches always stayed in Ace's thoughts for whenever he needed time away from people.

Currently he was situated in one such spot, but being alone was not really his purpose. Instead he was trying to fish. The small section near the stern was well-hidden, out of view of the deck and— more importantly— the mast where the lookout was. If Ace wasn't mistaken, Izo was the guard tonight. The okama had good eyes but it was not difficult for the teen to sneak past him. He had done it hundreds of times before.

Ace sat patiently near the edge of the ship, a fishing pole made of objects he had 'liberated' from various pirates in his hands. Most of it would be seen as trash by the others but it was simple for him to turn the junk into something useful.

His stomach gave a low grumble and he sighed, knowing the sounds would not reach Izo. So far he had not had much luck catching any fish, and worried he'd be forced to steal food since he could not provide for himself. It had been so long since he couldn't simply join the crew and eat like normal but he had made his decision so he wouldn't whine about the consequences.

His low tolerance towards the lack of food was probably because— to his brain— he had just been eating well and was happily full, only to find himself 'starving' at the drop of a hat when he woke in the latest reset. Ace's gut gave a louder, more insistent growl, cramping slightly, and he huffed.

_Stop being a baby_ , he thought at it.  _I'm not that hungry._

After a few more hours of sitting with no bites, Ace gave up. The waters were probably empty in these parts. Just his luck. He retrieved his fishing line and slid past the cabin, glancing up at the mast on principle. Izo was not staring down at him accusingly and demanding what he was doing so he continued on, slipping back into the lower decks without being seen.

_I should tell them to keep better watch_ , Ace thought.  _…But it's none of my business this time. Right._

It was hard, fighting against the instinctive urge to help them and give them a better chance of surviving with something as little as increased vigilance. But if he did that— even through sneers and insults— there would be that one person— likely Thatch— who would honestly appreciate his help and grow to like him. That wouldn't do.

Ace walked silently through the halls of the lower deck, considering what to do next. He could get some food from the pantry, perform his expected attempt on Whitebeard's life, or simply go to bed. The thought of attacking Oyaji left a bitter taste in his mouth but it would be out of character to refrain. Besides, it was not like he could actually hurt the Yonko.

_Doesn't mean I won't hold back anyways._  The Logia stifled a chuckle.  _Assassination it is. I might as well get it out of the way for today so I can focus on other things._

He did not look forward to getting smacked around— he wasn't  _that_  far gone— but it wouldn't be so bad. Whitebeard wasn't trying to kill him, just tap him on the head until it got through his thick skull that the Yonko wasn't an enemy. Ace knew that already, but was determined to act like he didn't. So he had daily failed assassinations to look forward to until he could run for the hills and leave them all behind.

Ace rounded the corner and nearly ran into another body. He fell back, settling into a defensive stance, and met startled blue eyes.

Ace stared at Marco.

Marco stared at Ace.

Ace's grey eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"

He made his tone confrontational, not confused. He did not remember Marco ever seeking Oyaji's advice when Ace intended to attack the Yonko, though he supposed his memories of the times of his ambushes were foggy. He probably had attacked later than usual in the original timeline and just happened to catch the Phoenix as he was leaving this time around.

_Dammit. I don't_ _**want** _ _to act hostile. I **want**  to attack, go to bed, and sleep through tomorrow._

No, Ace was certainly  _not_  whining. He just wanted  _something_  to go according to plan tonight and was not in the mood for surprises. Surprises usually led to unexpected deaths one way or another and he just started this loop  _damn it_.

Marco glared at him. "I'm the one who should be asking that question, yoi."

"Oh, I'm just exploring." Ace said airily. "Seeing the sights, marveling at the architecture, and plotting maniacally. The usual."

Marco pinned him with a confused look and Ace cursed mentally. He should have snapped that it was none of the Phoenix's business, not joked flippantly. This Marco was not his friend or brother. He was a stranger and an enemy simply because the Logia could not let him become anything else.

_And he has to stay that way._  "And I'm  _definitely_  not going to attack anyone. Why do you  _think_  I'm here, bird-brain? To chat with your precious Oyaji?" Ace spat the question as a hiss, tone dripping sarcasm.

The Phoenix rolled his eyes, tension easing now that they were back in habitual territory. He stepped aside, gesturing towards Whitebeard's room. "Of course that's why. Go right ahead, yoi."

_I'm supposed to think they're enemies. Be mistrustful._  Ace paced back a step, features closed off. "You're really just going to let me walk on by and kill Whitebeard? Well aren't you a loyal attack turkey. What, do you want the Captain's position for yourself?"

Marco's jaw locked at the jab towards his motives but he apparently recalled who was speaking to and realized snapping was a waste of breath. He snorted. "As if, yoi. He's too strong for you to even touch him, brat."

Ace grinned, revealing all of his teeth. "We'll see about that."

The Phoenix tensed, betraying his unease through the slightest stiffening of his shoulders. Ace pretended not to notice and kept grinning, hiding his surprise. Was Marco taking his threat seriously? Normally he would have scoffed and disregarded Ace's 'overconfident' oaths. What had the Logia done to genuinely alarm him?

Ace slowly realized it must have been the smile. The fire-user had perfected the art of differentiating grins, emotions ranging from gentle and joyful to savage and bloodthirsty. After all, people always grew wary of those that laughed and beamed in battle, giving off the vibe of someone who didn't care if they died as long as they took a bunch of the enemy with them. Ace's grin used to be the mellower version of that, but eventually he had gained the habit of smiling psychotically to unnerve his foes, letting them know that no matter what they did to him, it wouldn't hurt him as much as it ended up hurting them. He must have used that smirk here and startled Marco.

_Oops._

"On second thought, how about you go to bed, yoi?" Marco said evenly. His voice was low and dangerous, thus confirming Ace's suspicions.

_Normally I'd rant and snarl right now. Maybe I should. Nah, that's predictable and will make him relax. 'Oh look, the fire brat's threatening Oyaji. How cute!' On the other hand, acting 'weird' always made them twitchy. I_ _ **do**_ _want them to mistrust me instead of getting comfortable..._  Ace kept on smiling. "Sure."

He turned on his heel, walking away without a protest. He could feel the wheels turning in Marco's head and imagined a meter of suspiciousness on the Phoenix's forehead going into the red, accompanied by little alarm bells and maybe giving off smoke. Ace withheld a giggle at the mental image and returned to his room without further incident. He had a feeling the Phoenix would not be going to sleep tonight, if he returned to his quarters at all. That was fine. Ace would wait until after dawn to attack Whitebeard.

When he thought about it, it was almost ironic that Marco might actually take him as a more serious threat now when he would never truly try to assassinate the Yonko, unlike how the Commander never had when Ace had given the attempts his all. How funny.

Ace flopped onto his bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking. Only a few hours into the new loop and he was already doing well. Thatch was upset with him and Marco was wary. The two people the teen had first grown to trust were now leery of him. He'd have to keep pushing to keep them away. Ace still didn't know how much time he had before he could make his escape so he couldn't let up until the Whitebeards were practically clamoring to get him out of their lives.

The sting in his chest was less intense than before. Good. He was coming to terms with his plan.

_They're not my family. They're an obstacle I have to get through to get out of here and leave this life behind. They'll be better off without me. I just need to get out of their lives as soon as possible._

Ace's stomach growled.

_Quiet, you. I'll feed you tomorrow._

For now he just wanted to sleep.

OPOPOPOPOP

As the First Division Commander and 'oldest'— as in most responsible— brother of the Whitebeard Pirates, Marco had the dubious honor of being the one every Commander ran to when they needed advice— or were trying to hide from vengeful siblings. So when Thatch appeared at his door, Marco instantly felt his headache double.

After encountering Fire Fist in the hall, the Phoenix had not gotten a wink of sleep. Oyaji had sent him to bed once he realized Marco was lingering outside the room, but the blond-haired pirate had remained on alert for the rest of the night. He was not about to tell anyone though. It would be degrading to let others know the brat's actions had worried him. Pushing the image of Fire Fist's troubling— and maybe a little unhinged— smile out of his mind, he reached up and rubbed his forehead, sighing as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Who did you prank, yoi?" Marco asked flatly.

Thatch blinked, then gave him a pseudo-wounded look. "I didn't prank anyone! Yet."

The last word was muttered under his breath but Marco heard him clearly enough. The chef shook himself and pushed past the Phoenix, shutting the door behind him before turning back to his brother.

"So you know how I talked to Ace yesterday?"

"A most trying pastime, I'm sure." Marco said in a bored voice.

Thatch shot him a tired glare. "Hey, it's your fault none of you have tried to have a decent conversation with him. Usually you just berate him, laugh at him, or dismiss him when he threatens Oyaji."

"I don't…" Marco began, then paused.

He thought back to all of his interactions with the fire brat. Other than the time he introduced himself, he could not think of a time when he had tried to get to know Fire Fist. The brat probably would not give him any information about himself intentionally but Marco had not exactly been trying to get him to open up. The only time he had thought to try was yesterday... after he berated the brat.

Oh.

"See? You haven't just  _talked_  to Ace, have you?" Thatch insisted, not quite gloating. "When you seek him it's to tell him to knock it off or roll your eyes. I'm sure if we give him a reason to get to know us he'll stop with this nonsense about trying to kill Oyaji. Right now we're treating him more like a nuisance or sideshow than a potential crew mate. That's not going to convince him to become our brother."

Marco shifted his weight uncomfortably and looked away. "I guess. I… didn't think about it, yoi."

Thatch's eyes widened. "You mean I realized something obvious before you did? Oh Gods! Is the world ending? I'll go start stockpiling meat and weapons!"

The Phoenix smacked his brother's arm. "Enough of that, yoi. What about Fire Fist did you come to talk about?"

The chef's joking visage vanished. "I think something's wrong with him." Thatch said bluntly. "He dumped the food I brought him onto the floor."

The Phoenix nodded slowly. "So that's why you've been moping around like someone kicked your pet, yoi."

"I wasn't moping." Thatch protested. He paused. "…Maybe a little bit. But that's not the point! The kid's acting weird."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "Him refusing to eat the food you gave him was weird?"

"No. His reaction was." The chef said. "I'm used to him being as prickly as a porcupine whenever I so much as look at him, but yesterday was different. After he dumped the food, for a second he just  _froze_. It was like he couldn't decide between acting defiant or fleeing from me. He tensed like he thought I was going to hit him or something."

Thatch sounded deeply troubled by that. Marco wanted to brush off the brat's behavior as his usual distrustfulness but paused, remembering the defeated look in his grey eyes. Had Thatch seen the haunted emptiness there too?

"Honestly, it was worse than when he first woke up. He was always staring at us like he expected a knife in the back the moment he relaxed. Well, he still does but this time he didn't look mistrustful. He looked scared. Of  _me_." Thatch sat on the bed, expression pinched. "The day before yesterday I actually convinced him to let me wrap some of his injuries— grudgingly, mind you, but it was something. Yesterday he was back to snarling. I thought I might be getting through to him, but now…" His shoulders hunched. "I don't know what I did wrong."

Marco could not think of any changes in the brat's behavior other than his own concerning encounters with his fellow fire-user, so he was helpless to assist his brother in figuring out what caused Fire Fist to 'withdraw'. The Phoenix felt a little unsettled when faced with further proof that he hadn't been watchful enough to see the subtle differences in the brat, but he was certainly going to watch for it now.

If Thatch said he thought he had been getting through to Fire Fist, Marco was inclined to believe him. The chef may be a rather overdramatic type of pirate but he wouldn't embellish about something as important as Fire Fist's potential trust. Not when Thatch genuinely wanted the brat to become one of their brothers so badly.

"I'm sure it's not something you did, yoi." The Phoenix said slowly. "I think the brat either realized he was letting you in and has decided to work harder to keep you out or that near-miss yesterday affected him more than we thought."

There was a distant crash.

"Maybe not that much." Thatch commented, getting to his feet.

Marco felt his headache triple. "Speak of the devil…" he muttered, already running towards the sound.

They pushed through chuckling pirates and found Fire Fist lying on his back near the railing. The brat looked winded, his hat askew and a nice bruise already forming on his chest. He did not move, staring unblinkingly at the cloudless sky. For a worrying moment, Marco thought he might be in shock, but the brat soon sighed and sat up, ignoring the cackling pirates around him.

"How far did he fly this time?" Haruta snickered, stepping up beside Marco.

"Through five walls by the look of it." Fossa complained. "We're going to have to rebuild half the ship at this rate. Oi! Fire brat! Aim to cause the least amount of damage next time, huh?"

The brat finished brushing himself off and glared at the deck. "Screw off." He said, but there was no fire in his tone. Instead he sounded tired.

"Now, now." Vista interjected. "That's no way to talk to your brother."

Fire Fist stared at him for a long time, jaw twitching. Then he dipped his head, hiding his face except for his clenched teeth. "We'll never be brothers."

That was all he said. No oaths about taking Whitebeard's head. No volleyed insults about them patronizing him. The brat unceremoniously shoved his way through the gathered pirates, stalking off. The Commanders silently watched him go, startled by the lack of anger they had come to expect from Fire Fist. Once he was out of sight, Haruta gave a low whistle.

"Seriously,  _why_  does Oyaji want him again?" the blue-eyed Commander asked exasperatedly. "He's such a prick!"

"Entertainment? Things have certainly been livelier with him around." Rakuyo suggested.

"Things have also been more expensive." Fossa complained. "He's gone through so many walls I bet the brat knows the inner working of the ship better than the shipwrights by now!"

They shared a laugh.

Something ugly curled in Marco's gut and he had to stop himself from berating the Commanders. The way they spoke was a little too amused as they joked about the teen's future and actions. It was one thing to mock brash pirates who challenged Oyaji and would be simply swatted away like a fly, but Portgas D. Ace was intended to become one of their own. Sure, it was funny to see him be thrown about like a surprised baby bird on its first flight, but now that Marco thought about it, such flippant reactions could really chaff at a pirate's pride. It was a good thing Fire Fist wasn't around to hear—

Fire roared, washing over the deck like a wave. Pirates scrabbled backwards to evade the flames, only for many to collapse to their knees as a blast of  _freaking Conqueror's Haki_  slammed into them. Marco himself barely remained standing beneath the pressure that  _demanded he fall_ , while the other Commanders staggered, skin paling. In hindsight, the Phoenix should have expected the brat to have that. Still, he didn't think Fire Fist would have it unlocked already.

It was obvious the blast had been accidental, if the brat's stunned expression was anything to go by. That did not stop him from glaring at the Whitebeard Pirates with conflicted eyes, anger and grief warring for dominance in his grey irises.

"You're  _not_  my family." He spat eventually. "You'll  _never_  be my family."

A shiver went up Marco's spine at the pain in his voice. It sounded like the kid was about to cry. The Phoenix was not the only one to notice either. He saw Thatch shoot Fire Fist a concerned look which the recipient seemed to not notice.

"I don't need any of you." He whispered, almost to himself.

Then he was gone, vanishing below deck faster than Marco could blink. The Phoenix stepped forward to follow him, his instincts screaming that he had to or something terrible would occur, but Namur placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I know you can heal but I think we should give the kid some time alone." The Eighth Division Commander advised.

Marco frowned but, unable to put his feelings into words, reluctantly went to check on his fallen brothers. The other Commanders did the same, helping winded pirates to their feet. A few were knocked out but thankfully no one was burned. Now that the Phoenix thought back, he realized Fire Fist had aimed his flames over their heads like he never intended to harm them.

"…Did we just mess up?" Fossa questioned thin air.

Haruta scoffed. "Nah. He's just throwing a hissy fit because he failed again." He looked around, surveying the damage and fallen pirates. "But  _wow_  can he pack a punch."

"Of course he can. He'd be a smear on the floor if he wasn't tough." Fossa said.

"More like hard-headed." Haruta muttered.

"Enough of that, yoi." Marco said sharply.

"What?" the Twelfth Division Commander complained. "It's not our fault he can't handle a couple jabs at his ego."

"How about a few hundred jabs over sixteen-odd days?" Thatch asked. His lips were thinned with disapproval and his eyes dark with worry. "You haven't exactly been making him feel welcome."

"I'll welcome him when he stops being an ass." Haruta frowned. "But when you put it like that, I'm surprised the prick hasn't blown up sooner."

"He's never attacked us before." Namur agreed. "That he's apparently willing to do so is worrying. What if he lashes out at one of the weaker ones?"

"Ace wouldn't do that." Thatch said, coming to the Fire Fist's defense.

The Fishman gave him a stern stare. "I'm not sure I believe that. He almost killed one of the nurses yesterday. He has no self-control and doesn't seem to care who gets caught in the crossfire."

OPOPOPOPOP

Ace stopped listening at that point. He retreated from the doorway, keeping his breathing even and his flames and Haki under strict restraints. Pirates parted before him like people scattering before a rampaging bull but the teen did not have the will to adopt a less murderous expression. He slammed the door to his room shut hard enough to send dust flying and flopped onto his bed, fighting the desire to bang his head against the wall.

"Stupid stupid  _stupid!_ " he hissed under his breath.

He'd lost control for the first time in a long time and it was only his first damn day in this loop. He'd like to claim his bout of instability was because of the near-constant cramps in his gut but he knew better than to delude himself. After years of keeping himself in check around the likes of Teach, he had exploded because of a couple snide comments and made the Whitebeard Pirates believe he was an immature brat who couldn't handle jokes.

_Well, at least my plan is working._

Except it was less like his goal was coming to fruition and more like he was merely reinforcing preconceived notions. To the Whitebeard Pirates, he was just a hothead, an arrogant rookie who wanted to kill the most powerful man in the world and had no chance of doing so. Did the Whitebeard Pirates really think so  _little_  of him at first in the original loop? He could not recall.

He really should have seen this coming. These Whitebeard Pirates did not know Ace. All they knew and saw was the 'cocky rookie that thinks he can take Oyaji's head'. They didn't care about him or respect him because they did not know him and he had given them no reason to. He knew that. He understood. But that didn't stop their rejection from hurting because while they didn't know him, he knew and loved them. To hear people that looked like, acted like, and technically were his family talk about him like that…

Seeing them jeering and so genuinely amused and annoyed by his presence had bothered Ace more than he thought it would. He was so used to being a part of their family that he had been unprepared by the open dislike shot his way. The fact— or more accurately, reminder— that he was an outsider and not one of their own had been a slap to the face. He didn't need to make a majority of the Whitebeard Pirates look down on him with scorn and mockery. They  _already_  despised him. Indeed, it was not the jests that made him lose control. It was the gleeful disregard of his attempts and near-vindictiveness behind the insults thrown his way.

_Get used to it,_  Ace thought, ignoring his burning eyes.  _I can't change their minds or they'll follow me when I get out of here._

He was such a wimp. One day into his newest life and he was already moping like a crybaby and wishing he could just take a lifeboat and run to avoid seeing the dismissal on his former family's faces.

_If I do that, they'll drag me back because Oya— Whitebeard still wants me. I'm probably stuck here for another few weeks so I need to man up and act like a bastard instead of wallowing around and feeling sorry for myself._

Good thing he was so great at acting like an asshole.

The door to his room opened. Ace turned and glared at the person invading his solitude, forcing his expression to twist into a grimace as his face tried to soften when he saw who it was. This  _wasn't_  his Marco, damn it.

The Phoenix looked at him with neutral blue eyes, but the teen could spot the smallest hint of concern behind his bored visage. He was not angry, which Ace was both glad and unhappy about, but he wasn't supportive either. He wasn't the teen's brother. He had no reason to care.

"Oyaji wants to see you." The First Division Commander said without preamble.

Ace maintained his glare even as his heart sank.  _Or maybe I won't be here for long after all._

_Good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos! Tell me what you think.


	3. Messing Up

_The smell of blood and ash was overwhelming. It sank into Ace's every pore, crawling into his mouth and nose like poisonous sludge and choking him, embedding itself in his memory in a way he knew could never be undone. The Fire Logia ignored the stench, the smoke, and the pain of his wounds, fighting against the arms that sought to pull him away from the battlefield._

" _Oyaji!" he screamed, reaching towards the body that still stood proudly amidst the carnage. "_ _ **OYAJI!**_ _"_

_Whitebeard did not answer. He was long dead, slain by the hundreds of wounds delivered to him from Marines and the Blackbeard Pirates both. Ace may have been able to go with Izo and flee like his Captain ordered, might have been able to look to the future with determination to never let this tragedy happen again, but he could not recover his senses this time and move on. He could_   _ **not**_ ** _._**

_Because Marco was gone as well._

_The Phoenix was dead, killed taking a strike from Akainu that was meant for Ace and unable to heal due to the Seastone shackles still around his wrists._

_Ace still could not comprehend how things had gone so wrong. Somehow, because the fire-user had interrupted Teach's attempt on Thatch's life and gotten hurt instead,_ _ **Marco** _ _had gone after the bastard when he escaped._ _ **Marco** _ _had fought Blackbeard, been captured, and set to be executed. **M** **arco** _ _was the reason the Whitebeard Pirates came to Marineford._

_Marco the Phoenix was now dead._

_Because_ _ **he** __went after Teach, because_ _ **he** __was captured, because_ _ **he** _ _had taken Ace's place at Marineford. Ace had_ _ **no idea** __why. He had no clues as to what he had done that affected the Phoenix so he would choose to leave them behind and hunt down Blackbeard alone._

What did I do wrong?

_Ace let loose a strangled sob, still struggling as a teary-eyed Thatch joined Izo in dragging him away from Marco and Oyaji's bodies. The other Commanders were still fighting Akainu, the Marine as determined as ever to end the fire-user's life. Maybe the Admiral had discovered Ace's parentage. Maybe Whitebeard's final order to protect the one he intended to become Pirate King made Ace into the biggest threat. Or maybe Sakazuki just hated him no matter what._

_Ace did not know. He did not care. Because Marco and Oyaji were dead._

_And it was his fault._

_Thatch finally gave up on pulling him away and knocked him out._

_When Ace woke up, the Whitebeard Pirates were in shambles. Jozu and Vista were in charge. The others— and maybe even their new co-captains— flailed, lost without their Captain and 'oldest' brother. Many so-called 'brothers' left without looking back. The remainders stayed, lived, and grieved. Ace tried to live as well, to be the new glue and strength of their crew— though it was not expected of him. He was neither their Captain nor First Mate— but he could barely stop himself from drowning in his guilt._

_One year later, Blackbeard— now a Yonko in Edward Newgate's place— attacked._

_The weakened and mourning Whitebeard Pirates died._

_And Ace started all over again._

OPOPOPOPOP

This had to be a record of some kind. Sure, there might be few to no cases to compare to, but Ace was certain that he must have broken the recorded fastest time for 'messing up all of one's relationships'.

He'd never been this bad before, even in that first loop when he had woken in terrified confusion and rambled about the future in a panic until he had to be sedated. Ah, those were the good old days. He barely remembered anything about it now other than said rambling and sedation and the horrified look on Thatch's face when Ace looked him in the eye and said he was supposed to be dead.

But this was a good thing for Ace's plan. When he had been considering who he had to make want him gone, he had completely forgotten about the most important— and influential— person he had turn against him. He had to make Oyaji hate him too.

_Not Oyaji. He's not my father. He's not my Captain. He just has his face._

But Oya— Whitebeard was not like the others. He did not currently see Ace as a stupid rookie whose 'fights' with him were a source of entertainment like so many of the Commanders did. He was genuinely interested in Ace becoming one of his sons. He already cared, and even though the thought filled the teen's chest with warmth, it made his arms feel cold. He rubbed them irritably as he trailed behind Marco, heading towards the Yonko's room.

The Phoenix kept eyeing him in a way that he might have meant to be subtle but Ace noticed. He had taken time to learn to be aware of such things through trial and error because in his opinion it was bloody necessary. After all, failing to notice things like a pirate's blatantly greedy and nightmarish grin when he saw the Fruit he was willing to kill for was a pretty stupid move. It had only taken Ace ten or so loops to finally take note of the bastard's expression behind his and Thatch's backs that fateful day and he cursed himself for not seeing Teach's obvious murderous intent sooner.

Ace's blood boiled at the thought of the traitor but he kept his anger in check.  _I'm not here to kill Teach. And even if I were, I'd have to wait or I'd be in an ocean's worth of trouble._  He started going over his usual timetable out of habit before catching himself.  _Not my problem yet. I have time before the bastard makes a move. If I even decide to stop him. It's not like his death will last. He'll just come back next time and ruin everyone's lives._

The teen struggled to keep the bitter smile off his face. He successfully turned it into a scowl when Marco glanced at him again.

" _What?_ " he snapped.

"We're here, yoi." The Phoenix said calmly.

Ace blinked at the closed door before him and crossed his arms. "Are you sure we're not supposed to be on the deck? It'll cause less damage when he beats the shit out of me."

The Phoenix shot him a mildly befuddled look. "Why would he do that?"

Ace scoffed. "Don't pretend. Even I know Whitebeard gets all pissy when one of his precious sons gets injured."

Marco sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He's not going to hurt you, yoi."

Ace sneered at him. "If that's true, then I'm a time traveler."

If not for the situation, seeing the vein pulse in Marco's forehead might have been amusing. The Phoenix yanked the door open and none-too-gently shoved the teen into the room. Ace kept his footing and noticed the hastily placed boards that marked the previous time he had exited the area. He then shifted his attention to Whitebeard, glaring at him.

Ace dismissed the squeezing in his chest at the sight of the wires attached to his fath—  _not_  his father's body, and tried not to think about the man's deteriorating health. Whitebeard never died of a heart attack or medical issues, not in any of the timelines Ace had lived through, so he wouldn't be dropping from bad health any time soon.

Marco strode past Ace and up to the Yonko, nodding at the fire-user as he passed. "Here's Ace, Oyaji."

The teen remained silent. He imagined a large, greedy bastard where Whitebeard sat and his glower easily deepened. The Yonko looked back calmly, neither intimidated nor amused. That was good and bad. Good because of course Whitebeard would never be unnerved by Ace. Bad because the Logia must have hit a nerve if Oya—  _not_  Oyaji was upset with him.

_This is what I want,_  Ace reminded himself.  _The sooner I can get out of their lives, the better._

"Please leave us, son." Whitebeard said to Marco.

The Phoenix hesitated but gave a jerky nod, eyeing Ace as he exited the room as if he were daring the teen to try something. Ace bared his teeth at the First Division Commander, the very image of surliness and anger. Marco rolled his eyes as he shut the door and the Logia transferred his scowl back to Whitebeard.

_Stick to the act._  "Are you going to punish me for hurting your children now?" Ace asked defiantly. "Go ahead."

The Yonko looked down at him sternly, but Ace could see the slight sorrow in his eyes. "It is as I told you before, child. We are  _not_  your enemies. I know very well that your earlier actions were an accident and no ill intent was meant. However, that does not mean I can simply let this slide."

A long time ago, the Yonko's tone might have scared him. Ace once might have believed that his father was about to enact a harsh and painful punishment on him for messing up. Now he knew better, so he was not afraid in the slightest. Or maybe he had faced so many terrible things in his lives that he wasn't capable of fearing retribution anymore.

"Of course not. So what are you going to do? Send me to my room? Make me scrub the deck? Starve me?" Ace pretended his stomach did not growl at that moment. "Or are you finally going to show your true colors? Am I going to be sleeping in the brig? Tortured until I crack and join you? Or maybe you'll flay my back since you seem to think you own it."

Ace tried not to think of the emblem he had once worn on his back with pride.

Whitebeard was unmoved by his harsh claims, instead studying the teen like he was trying to see into his soul. "I just told you that I know your attack was an accident. Do you truly think I am so cruel that I will punish a child for a mistake?"

Ace saw an opening and took it, cursing himself internally all the while. "I'm not a  _child_. I know how the world works. You expect me to believe all those Captains chose to serve under you because you convinced them with love and rainbows? Yeah, right. More like you give them an ultimatum: 'Join me or die!'" he laughed bitterly. "You're such a bloody hypocrite."

_I should know from personal experience_ , he thought self-loathingly.

Whitebeard was unbothered by the insults the teen hurled his way. Ace expected no less, but he had to at least try to get under the Yonko's skin. Most likely he would be unsuccessful, but the Captain needed to hate and lose interest in the Logia for him to be able to leave and not be pursued.

"Believe what you will, child." Whitebeard said calmly. "But I know you will find that your beliefs are unfounded someday. For now, you are going to work with Thatch in the kitchens to—"

"No." Ace interrupted simply.

It was one of the few times he saw the World's Strongest Man be openly taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said ' _no_.'" Ace emphasized. "I'm not one of your lackeys. You're not my bloody Captain or my father. Why the  _hell_ would I do anything you said? Because you asked nicely?  _No_. You can't control me or order me to do grunge work. You want to punish me? Then your only option is to hurt me.  _So go ahead and do it already!_ "

At first, Ace did not know why he was being so insistent. This blatant disregard for Whitebeard's authority was more than simply trying to change the Yonko's beliefs about him. Then he thought about what his former father wanted him to do as punishment, and realized it was not enough. Ace had hurt the pirate's sons. He had attacked Whitebeard countless times. His stupid, reckless, and foolish actions had resulted in the man's death even more instances than that. His hands quivered as they clenched into fists and he glared at the Yonko, praying the anger in his expression hid the agony within.

_I caused your death so many times. Make me pay for it._

To his disappointment— and horror— Whitebeard was looking at him sadly with no anger in his amber eyes.

_Dammit. I went over the 'screaming help me' line._

"You do not hold much faith in the kindness of others, do you?" Whitebeard murmured.

Ace snorted. "Kindness is an exception in humanity, not a norm."

Sadly, the Logia knew this to be true. For every Luffy, there were tens of thousands of Teaches who saw kindness as a weakness and only used it as a front to lull others into a false sense of security before making them pay for what should be basic human decency. Ace was more than aware that Whitebeard was a Luffy-type person, but it was easy to fall back into old, cynical habits that never truly left, and might have only gotten worse after witnessing all the terrible things he had throughout his lives.

He could see his answer had only made Whitebeard more curious— and determined to prove him wrong.

_Double dammit._

"That is not true here." Whitebeard insisted. "We are a family. Family opens their hearts to each other, love each other unconditionally, and always sticks together."

Ace remembered Teach's many betrayals. He remembered watching his father die. He remembered Marco struggling to keep the Whitebeard Pirates together, only for many to leave and never come back. The Division Commanders that were still alive always stayed, of course, but the rest were prone to breaking away like all those years together meant  _nothing_  to them. Red-hot anger ignited in his chest.

"You are a  _fool_  if you think your crew is a family!" he snarled. "You think none of them will betray you? None of them will leave you? None will abandon the others when you're gone? You'll die and they'll splinter apart! They're not a family, they're a bunch of misfits that'll ditch each other the first chance they—"

A large hand grabbed him before he could hope to dodge and reality blurred. Ace's body locked and he froze in  _Gramps-Akainu-Kaido-Teach's_  grip before bursting into flame. His enemy refused to release him, likely using Haki to keep him helpless but Ace wasn't going down without a fight. Not now, not  _ever_.

Ace's Haki-covered hand gripped his enemy's, pulling roughly, and they released him, sending him falling to the ground. Breaking free had been easy. Too easy. It was almost like his enemy had released him. It had to be a ploy, a trap to get him to relax. He had to back off and plan and get out and find his allies somewhere on the Moby Dick—

_Oh._

Ace pulled himself out of old memories and landed back in the present. Other than his pounding heart, his instincts to survive faded, leaving him cruelly clearheaded. Whitebeard was out of bed, a few wires pulled carelessly from his flesh, but it was the look on his face that gave the teen pause. The Yonko was as close to furious as Ace had ever seen him. At least, it was the angriest the Logia had ever seen his father at  _him_.

Shit. He'd pushed too far. But it was fine. It was okay. Oyaji would never hurt him. He may be a Yonko but once he had chosen Ace as one of his sons, the fire-user would always be safe with him. That was a constant in every loop Ace woke in, and something he could always rely on.

That was why Ace remained still as Whitebeard reached for him. A more ignorant person might think that the Yonko was about to attack but Ace knew better.

He did.

Whitebeard's hand was over him.

He did.

A large palm landed on his head.

He  _did_.

It might be the pounding of his heart, but he swore he could feel the vibrations of his father's power. Ace could not stop the small, hysterical laugh that broke free of his lips

The Yonko's eyes widened slightly and he pulled his hand away. Ace was proud to note that his legs were not trembling. He hadn't so much as flinched, secure in the knowledge that this man—though not his father— had no intention of harming him, and certainly would never do so. Even as his heart pounded in his chest, he grinned so wide his cheeks ached.

"I knew it."

His voice came out breathless but oddly triumphant. He knew Whitebeard wouldn't actually hurt him. Even now, the Yonko cared. Ace nearly cursed as he realized that was the opposite of what he wanted, but something in his former father's face gave him pause. His expression was neutral but his yellow eyes were just slightly round with… guilt? Horror? Sadness? Uncertain of how to deal with it, Ace decided to take his leave.

"Time to go back to my cell, I guess." He said, unable to summon the energy to say it in more than a whisper.

The fire-user headed towards the door, only to halt when Whitebeard spoke.

"You're not a prisoner." he said quietly.

Ace turned back and looked at him, smile firmly in place. "Then why am I not free?"

He left before the Yonko could respond.

The teen kept his head down and his arms over his chest as he hurried through the halls, unwilling to talk to anyone who might try to stop him. The ache in his chest was back but he ignored it. He'd get over his doubts soon enough, and if he didn't it would be too late to go back by then.

Ace's stomach gave a loud grumble, wonderfully creating a distraction, and he changed his path so he was headed towards the kitchens. They should be empty right now. He needed to eat before he collapsed or the Whitebeards would go all 'mother hen' mode on him and try to take care of him. He did not want that to happen.

And he did not deserve it either.

He deserved to be alone.

OPOPOPOPOP

It was only with slight guilt that Ace made his way through the Whitebeard Pirates' spacious food storage, grabbing items as he went and shoving them into a bag. A little bit of this, a little of that, all items that would not spoil out of the fridge and would fit under the loose floorboard in his room. The fire-user jammed a small loaf of bread into his mouth, chewing as he glanced at the doorway. He needed to be quick and get the food to his room before Thatch or the cooks showed up.

He knew that he would be the first person they suspected when they inevitably realized food was missing and would come storming to his borrowed living space soon enough. He just hoped he remembered his facts right and the pirates were unaware of his potential hiding place. They'd likely tear through his room regardless, but he needed to have some supplies to call his own if he wanted to avoid too many complications. Starving  _sucked_ , something that he knew first hand and had no intention of going through again.

It had been ridiculously easy to break into the food pantry. The lock was ludicrously simple to pick, especially compared to the many places Ace had been forced to break into and out of during his lives. He should probably tell Thatch to invest in a better lock… but it was not his problem.

_Not this time._

Despite the thought, stealing food from his former family left a sour tang in Ace's mouth that made the bread he gnawed on taste like ash. Accepting meals from them was out of the question if he wanted them to continue to think he was unwilling to open up to them though.

_I_ _**am** _ _unwilling. Joining them will lead to their deaths._

Ace shook himself before grabbing one last package of dried meat. He glanced outside the doors to the storage room and saw no one nearby. Quickly, he shut and locked the door behind him and darted away, careful to take less used paths back to his quarters. There were so many maintenance tunnels and 'secret' corridors in the Moby Dick it wasn't even funny.

If an enemy got past the lookouts and into the ship, it would not be hard for them to sneak around and go anywhere they wanted without being seen. Well, the Commanders would probably notice them if they were not using Haki, but Ace was accustomed to hiding. During the lighter days, he had always used these tunnels for pranks, popping out of nowhere to startle his brothers. But it was impossible this time.

_I can still use that to catch them off guard, maybe. Keep them wary and on their toes. If they see me as a threat, they won't want me. I have to be sure not to push them too hard or they'll rather kill me than let me go though…_

Once he reached his room, Ace wasted no time in hiding his loot beneath the floorboards, carefully situating his stock so the space would not sound hollow when hit. As he carefully put the wood back in place, he sighed mournfully. He'd gotten a good haul, enough that he'd last a few days in fact.

_If only a small boat would survive in these damn seas without capsizing…_

He really wished he had Striker.

_Maybe once I get out of here I'll ask a shipwright to build her. I know the specs well enough. The only problem will be money._

Ace grimaced. He felt his pockets and glanced around his rather bare room, releasing a sigh of frustration. He currently only had a few Beri to his name, with a majority of his money being sunken with his old ship. Or did the Whitebeards take it before they sent the Spades' vessel to the bottom of the ocean? He could not recall.

_It's been so long. I can't even remember her name._

Ace banished his melancholic thoughts and sat on his bed, thinking. He definitely did not have enough money to buy a boat once they reached land, and stealing one on one of Whitebeard's island was just asking for them to pursue him. He might have enough for a ticket but was leery about sailing with merchants or civilians. With his luck, the vessel would be attacked by Kaido because he was on it.

_Nah. That's too farfetched even for me. I haven't done anything to piss him off this timeline._ The teen snorted.  _I'll think about how to get off the island later. I still have time. If we were anywhere close to land, pirates would be running around like excited geese right now._

Casting a cursory glance at his closed door, Ace reached into his stash and retrieved a bit of the dried meat. He ate slowly, knowing that doing so would make his stomach think it was fuller, and it grumbled in slight content. The fire-user leaned back as the slight pain in his gut eased and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

_I'll try assassinating Whitebeard again later. I have to keep up appearances, after all. And I don't want him thinking what happened earlier affected me. Or maybe I should? If he thinks I'm scared of him— Nah. I can't pull that off._

Ace scowled and settled on his pillow, staring at the ceiling. The old him would be scouting the area and unintentionally mingling with the pirates that were his 'enemies' at the moment, but the teen wanted to keep his interactions with his former family to a minimum. Unwilling companionship would lead to compassion and understanding, and Ace was more than willing to be an anti-social shut in that only emerged to wreak havoc if it stopped the Whitebeard Pirates from loving him.

He had to admit, it was a little unnerving to be so alone. The only times he was really alone in the other timelines was when he was on a solo mission, hunting Teach, or imprisoned. It was not a nice feeling.

_Stop being a baby. I'm bringing this on myself. I can deal with it._

The ship shuddered.

Ace was on his feet and at his door in an instant. Pirates raced past his room, shouting to one another as they went, but many of their voices were lost in distant thuds, crashes, and rumbles. Another tremor wracked the vessel, sending him stumbling into the doorframe, but he braced himself and called out to Izo, who was running by.

"What's going on?"

"We're under attack." The okama said briefly before vanishing down the hall.

Ace hesitated.  _Not my fight. Not my problem. I can't get involved._

He turned back to his room but halted as faint shouts, screams, and the sound of clashing metal reached his ears. His fingers clenched so hard that his fingernails dug into his palms and he cursed under his breath.

"Dammit…"

Ace ran up onto the deck, halting in the exit and taking in the chaos in front of him. The attackers were not Marines like he had subconsciously feared but pirates. The teen did not recognize the Jolly Roger many of them sported, but knew they were not one of the crews that would become one of Whitebeard's allies. These men were here to plunder and kill, and were likely ignorant rookies that thought they could beat a Yonko.

Ace wondered how the rival crew had gotten onto the Moby Dick but disregarded such questions. They were there and they were attacking, so what was he going to do about it? If he fought alongside the Whitebeard Pirates, they would appreciate him as an ally, which was a big no-no. So what should he do?

A pirate lunging for him with a sword answered his question. Mindful of Haki or seastone, Ace swayed to the side casually to avoid the strike and burned the man before he could blink. It was startlingly easy, but these mooks were nothing compared to the likes of Kaido and Akainu. The teen grinned and let more enemies come to him, picking them off one or two at a time. The pirates probably thought he was an easy target because of his age— made all more apparent by his freckles and the remnants of baby fat that still clung to his face— and he was eager to prove them wrong.

Ace did not let himself fight in tandem with the Whitebeard Pirates. Instead he kept near a rather isolated corner of the ship, blasting and punching any fool dumb enough to come close. He was merely defending himself, nothing more. These idiots were not a threat to anyone he cared about. They never were and they never would be, in any time. So there was no need to worry.

Ace sensed movement behind him and turned, fist aflame. His hand froze a couple inches from Thatch's startled face. The teen immediately extinguished the flames, glowering at the chef.

"What the hell are you doing? I could have roasted you, moron!"

Thatch shook himself and beamed like his birthday had come early. "But you didn't."

Ace narrowed his eyes and casually fried a pirate that was trying to sneak up on him. "What do you want? Gonna kill me in the chaos?"

"Wow, you are a paranoid little guy, aren't you?" Thatch asked.

Ace conveniently blasted an enemy pirate coming up behind the chef, his flames missing the Commander just enough that he wouldn't get burned. It was both satisfying and upsetting when Thatch flinched.

"Screw off unless you want to end up like  _him_." The Logia said coldly.

"Touchy." Thatch chirped as he impaled another invader. "So since you're fighting with us, are you going to join the crew?"

Ace punched a swordsman hard enough to send him flying twenty feet out over the water before gravity dragged him downward. "I'll never join you, bastard. These idiots just decided I was a good target." He knew how he looked. Young. Naïve. Alone. Probably unused to killing and hesitant to take a life…

_If only they knew._

"Well, you  _are_  wearing that garish yellow shirt." The chef teased, blissfully unaware of Ace's thoughts.

He grinned at Ace, who caught himself before he could return the smile. Instead he glared at the Fourth Division Commander and scowled. It was only because of his attention that he saw the pirate lunging silently at Thatch from behind, Haki-covered sword raised.

_The deck was splattered with crimson. It dripped over the floorboards, staining the wood red as it pooled around Thatch's unmoving frame. Ace barely noticed that he had fallen to his knees in the gore, mind reeling and consciousness locked only on the gaping, bloody wound in his brother's back. So deep in shock was he, that he did not even comprehend the presence of the other person beside him._

_Teach still stood over Thatch, dagger covered in the Fourth Division Commander's blood. His greatest enemy was still at the scene of the crime but Ace could not lift a finger to stop him._

_Ace should have been there. He_ _**had** _ _been there. But he'd been just a moment too late. He had mistimed his arrival and appeared in time to see the blade sink between Thatch's shoulders. Never before had Ace been there to see the murder. Never before had he come upon the scene at that exact moment, witnessing Teach's attack on his brother with his own eyes._

_For a moment, all the twenty year-old could do was stare incomprehensibly, unable to believe that his years of meticulous planning had all been for naught. Then the paralysis hit, his body and mind shutting down as Ace realized how badly he had failed. Even his breath froze in his throat, and all he could do was stare numbly as Teach ignored him and walked away, not even seeing him as a threat._

_He could not move as the bastard got away._

_He could not move as Marco stumbled upon the scene._

_He could not move as someone tried to get him to his feet, whispering useless consolations in his ears._

_Thatch was dead and he could not avenge him because he could not move._

_He could not move. He could not move. He could not—_

Instinct took over and Ace moved.

" _NO!_ " he shouted, shoving Thatch aside.

He felt cold metal bite into his back. Then pain lanced through Ace like an unwanted old friend, fire that was not under his control tearing through him from left shoulder to right hip. The only sound he made was a small gasp and as he fell to the deck,and all the fire-user could do was mock himself for his weakness as his nerves  _screamed_  in response to his cut flesh. He had suffered much worse injuries than this, yet he was whimpering like a small child with a boo-boo.

Warmth blossomed across his back and he felt sticky red spread outwards from the slash. It dripped over his torso and down his sides, pooling around his stomach. Ace pressed his trembling hands against the deck and gritted his teeth, determined not to make another noise. Sounds not made by him rose up in place of it and the fire-user winced, cringing at the volume of Thatch's frantic screams.

"Ace! Oh Gods. Doctor!  _I need a doctor!_ "

Ace watched through blurry eyes as the Commander knelt in front of him, skin ashen and eyes wide with terror. The teen wanted to tell him that it was okay and he would not die, but feared that opening his mouth would let out the pain that begged to be voiced. There was no reason to be afraid. The injury might seem bad, but the medical staff was better. He knew from experience that he wouldn't die from this.

Instead of letting the fire in his back hold his attention, Ace went over what had just occurred in his mind, cursing himself for his stupidity. Hindsight was damn perfect in his opinion, and he could think of dozens of ways he could have gotten both Thatch  _and_  himself out of harm's way, avoiding all this nonsense. It would have been easy, but of course he had to play the self-sacrifice card.

_I'm an idiot._

The burning sensation in the Logia's back increased and he flinched in response, squeezing his eyes shut. It took him a moment to identify Thatch as the cause. The chef was putting pressure on the wound. How kind of him. Ace slowly registered that his friend—  _not_  his friend, not in this timeline— was talking as well. Specifically, the chef was talking to him.

"—going to be okay. I know it hurts but it's not that bad, see? Well, I know you can't see but it's fine. You're going to be fine." He took a shuddering breath and forced a smile. "That's right. Keep looking at me. Stay awake. You're going to be okay…"

His voice cracked. Ace's eyelids were beginning to feel heavy but he fought against unconsciousness, reaching for the man. Thatch took his hand, squeezing it gently with one of his own, and the teen's sight was caught by the crimson on his palm and sleeve.

It was then that he realized he had just done the exact opposite of what he wanted to. He saved Thatch. The act itself wasn't bad, but the intent behind it was. Portgas D. Ace had been injured taking a blow for a Whitebeard Commander and was now seeking comfort from and trying to comfort the man. It was everything Ace did not intend to do, and he cursed himself for his reckless decision.

Thatch's face grew indiscernibly blurred. More figures joined his and Ace could just see the purple blotch that was Marco and the large white frame that may be Whitebeard. Other figures— nurses?— shoved their way to the front of the group and the teen had to hold in a self-depreciating chuckle. The whole gang had borne witness to what he had done. Fantastic.

Things were going to be different now because like it or not, someone in the Whitebeard Pirates was going to care for him. Someone would see what Whitebeard saw and want to keep Fire Fist as their brother. They might even convince others to see it as well, and all of Ace's plans to leave would be in ruins. Just because he had to be a bloody idiot and play 'human shield' again.

_Damn… it…_

Ignoring the concerned voices around him, Ace laid his head on the deck and let unconsciousness take him. Pain gently drifted away, and everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally was going to have the Marines attack but realized it wouldn't make sense and would have an unwanted reaction from the Marines in-story. So unimportant random pirate crew it is! XD
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos! Tell me what you think.


	4. More and More Mistakes

The sharp stench of antiseptic was the first thing to greet Ace when he returned to the waking world. It was accompanied by the sensation of rough sheets against his skin, not quite uncomfortable but not the most pleasant feeling either. He disregarded the urge to shift about or wrinkle his nose at the smell, instead keeping his breathing even and muscles lax. He was on his stomach, which confused him until he recalled his injury.

Happy to be acknowledged, a dull ache pulsed through his back from his shoulder to his hip, the wound feeling like someone was holding a flame to his skin while simultaneously pressing on it. Ace withheld a whine of complaint. This wound was nothing, especially considering he was probably under painkillers at the moment. Once those wore off, then he'd have more of a right to cringe and moan.

Not that he would. He was surrounded by 'enemies' and could not show weakness. Except because of his split second decision, making them stay that way and continue to see him as a nuisance was going to be a hundred times more difficult.

_I showed I care. They all saw it and will be under the impression that I'm a good person._ He nearly laughed aloud at the thought.  _Dammit. Maybe I should give it up…_

He remembered Thatch dying because of his mistakes.

He remembered Marco shielding him from Akainu's fist and burning alive.

He remembered Oyaji falling during the war that came because he needed to be rescued.

He remembered the Whitebeards facing hundreds of pirates, bounty hunters, and Marines for his sake, eventually being overwhelmed by the pure number of groups that wanted to capture the son of the Pirate King.

He remembered words rasped from lips covered in blood—

" _Promise… me…"_

Ace clenched his teeth, determined not to growl.  _…No way. I can still fix this and make them let me go. I'm not staying here._

"I saw him move. Come on, I know you can hear me. Open your eyes, sunshine."

Someone prodded his cheek with their finger. Ace thought of Blackbeard and let a snarl cross his features. He lifted his eyelids to glare at Thatch, whose face was mere inches from his own.

"Screw off, moron."

The chef brightened. "He's okay!"

There was a distinctly feminine snort from somewhere near Ace's feet. "I see Oyaji's picked another friendly one. Wonderful."

An icy tingle that had nothing to do with his wound slid down Ace's spine. He jerked into a sitting position, startling both his visitors and turned to stare at the woman. The Fire Logia struggled to keep his surprise from breaking through his scowl. When he woke, he expected to see one of Oy—  _Whitebeard's_  many exasperated nurses caring for him.

Not the blue haired, sword-swinging, stubborn 'Ice Witch' Whitey Bay. The New World Captain and doctor was a rare encounter during even the longest loops, usually only appearing when a big battle was about to commence.

… _Or Oyaji needs special medical treatment._

Ace quickly cut off that train of thought. Whitebeard was fine. He  _always_  survived those first hundred days without issue, so Bay must be here for another reason. It must have been a pre-planned meeting between the Yonko and his ally. That was all. Nothing more. It  _had_  been a while since he last woke up this early so it was possible he merely forgot about this event. He vaguely recalled meeting Bay during his one hundred days, but the details surrounding the introduction were fuzzy at best. So this was probably normal. There was nothing to worry about.

Bay raised a fine eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face?"

Ace had developed an immunity to doctors' implied threats so he continued to glare. "No. I just don't like surprises. Who the hell are you?"

_Makino would be so disappointed in my manners right now_ , he thought, keeping his amusement in check.

"This is Whitey Bay, one of our Allied Captains and a doctor." Thatch introduced eagerly. "She fixed you up."

Ace pretended not to hear the slight crack of guilt in the chef's voice. He crossed his arms, expression closed. "How kind of her." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Bay's eye twitched. She grabbed Ace's shoulder and twisted him with a bit more force then necessary so he was in a proper sitting position. "Don't sit like that, idiot. You'll tear your stitches."

"And wouldn't that be a shame." Ace hissed. "Too bad your precious Oyaji wants me alive." He accepted the churning in his gut as a constant symptom of speaking with his former family.  _I have to do this_ , he reminded himself again.

He heard Bay grind her teeth. "I see Haruta was right about your attitude. You could at least  _pretend_  to be grateful."

Ace sneered. "I did pretend."  _—to be ungrateful._ "You expect me to believe there isn't a price attached to you saving me? What's it gonna be? You gonna try to force me to join you again now that I have a debt hanging over my head?"

Thatch put a hand on Bay's arm before she could voice an angry retort. His kind eyes—  _Dammit. Dammit._ _ **Dammit**_ _._ —rested on Ace's face.

"We're not going to make you do anything. But if it makes you feel better, think of your treatment as payment in exchange for saving my life." He spread his arms, still smiling. "We'll even throw in a free new shirt cause your other one got… ruined." The chef cleared his throat. "There. We're even. Happy?"

Ace deigned to disregard his guarantees— and could not care less about his lost yellow shirt—instead focusing on the frustration bubbling up under his skin. He didn't want Thatch to like him,  _dammit._

"I didn't do that to save you. I was hoping it would go through my heart so I wouldn't have to see your ugly face anymore." he spat.

Instead of pouting— or fake pouting— Thatch's expression softened. "You and I both know that isn't true."

"I assure you, it is." Ace snarled.

It was so easy to throw a tantrum over his mistake when Thatch looked at him like that. Like Ace was something to be loved and guided like a scared stray puppy that needed a nice home. The fire-user did not want a home. He wanted to get out and stop seeing Thatch's stupid, kind smile and trusting nature that would one day get the chef killed.

…And now he was adopting a different look. One that the teen easily recognized. Thatch's eyes were going slightly glassy as he thought about the past, his brow furrowing and lips thinning just a little bit, and Ace  _knew_  the chef was feeling guilty for what had happened. Soon he'd enter 'mother hen' mode, would want to make Ace feel better— thus making himself feel less guilt in return— and would probably intend to 'keep him company while he was laid up in the medbay' in order to make up for Ace's injury and try to convince him to join the crew.

_How about_   _ **no**_ _._

The teen knew the song and dance by now. He couldn't let it happen.

Ace turned and stood up, planting his feet so Bay could not shove him back down without using excessive force. She may be a tough love kind of doctor but he knew her well enough to predict she would not risk harming her patients. Sure enough, Bay settled for glowering at him rather than forcing him to sit, recognizing an immovable wall that would not listen no matter how badly it affected their health when she saw one.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"To my room." Ace said coldly. "I'm not sticking around so you can drug me."

The doctor took the jab made at her ethics rather well. Then again, it took a lot more than a few insults to make her blow a gasket. Instead Bay inhaled, exhaled, and stayed professional. Good for her.

"At least let me tell you about what to expect, idiot. You got sliced from your hip to your shoulder—"

"I noticed." Ace said snarkily.

Bay ignored him. "— and had to get thirty stitches. The wound isn't too deep but you still need to watch out for infections. Which means you are going to come here every day and let me change your bandages, understand?"

_Be a bastard. Plant the seeds of dislike, Ace._  "And if I don't?" the fire-user challenged.

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "I'll come find you. You're going to have a nice scar on your back as it is but I want to make sure there won't be any long-lasting issues..."

She trailed off. It was only then that Ace realized he had let an emotion other than disgust onto his face. He could not pinpoint whether it was shock or grief, but he smothered it quickly, determined to remain cold. He was being a sentimental idiot again, already wanting to look in the mirror to see how big the scar truly would be. If it was as large as he estimated, it would have greatly damaged and defiled his Whitebeard tattoo. Which he did not have. And never would.

_Maybe I should take this as a sign I'm doing the right thing,_  Ace thought with the smallest twinge of pain in his chest. Exhaustion swept through him and he could not maintain his antagonistic aura.

"Anything else?" he asked flatly.

He knew better than to hope they did not notice his change in tone. Of course they did. They did not mention it though.

_Because they don't want to anger me or they think one wrong word is going to make me cry? Damn it all._

Bay cleared her throat. "No stretching." she ordered.

"Hm." Ace grunted.

"No sparring."

"Huh."

"No trying to assassinate Oyaji."

Ace kept silent.

Bay reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I can already tell you're going to turn my hair grey."

Ace could not stop the bitter laugh from escaping his lips. "Don't worry. I won't be around long enough to do that. Now if you'll excuse me."

He pushed past Thatch before the man could say anything and stalked out of the infirmary, instantly allowing his sour mood to show. He stomped through the ship like an angry storm cloud, sending pirates retreating out of his path lest they draw his ire. Some still tried to approach— probably to  _thank him_  or make friends.  _Damn it._ — but he sent them scurrying off with a glower. Ace could not bring himself to be amused by their nervousness, the fear only reminding him that he was not someone they trusted.

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I'm the one who is pushing them a—_

A hand landed on Ace's arm.

Startled into action, the fire-user grabbed his attacker and flipped them over his shoulder, slamming them into the floor. He registered their pained grunt before their appearance, spotting familiar blue skin through the haze that fogged up his senses, and felt a jolt of dismay. He released Namur and the Fishman groaned, looking dazed. Ace lingered at the Commander's side, hands moving aimlessly in the air as he failed to decide between backing off and helping poor Namur up.

"I'm so sorry!" he blurted on instinct. "I didn't— I thought you were—" The teen recalled his plan. "Why'd you grab me?" he snarled, switching his mood on a dime.

Namur shook his head to clear it and got to his feet, rolling his shoulder. Ace hid his concerned glances behind his usual glare. He hoped he did not injure the Fishman. He knew Namur was tough but there were  _cracks_  in the floor. That had to hurt. Ace bit the inside of his cheek to keep his guilt off his face as the Commander placed his hands on his knees, panting slightly. After a pause, Namur straightened.

"I tried to get your attention but you didn't answer." he said. "Oyaji wants to talk to you."

Ace cursed mentally. The Yonko likely wanted to thank him for saving Thatch. "Don't care."

He made to push past Namur but he stepped into his path. Ace stopped, grey eyes narrowing. He noticed other pirates lingering around and watching. Based on the wary and outraged expressions shot at the teen, they were likely ready to interfere if he assaulted the Fishman again. Ace had no plans to do such a thing, and had to banish the instinctive hurt that came from their mistrust of him.

"Get out of my way." Ace said coldly.

Namur did not move. "Oyaji's room is behind you." He said as if Ace was ignorant to that fact.

"I'm aware. I'm not going to him again after what happened last time." At Namur's confused look, Ace smiled, all teeth. "I'm guessing he didn't tell you what he did?"

The Fishman's responding stoic expression gave the teen his answer. For a moment, Ace considered not telling him. His purpose was to make the Whitebeard Pirates want him to leave, not talk trash about their Captain. Though maybe the latter would lead to the former…

"He  _attacked_  me." The teen spat. "And not because I was trying to kill him. He was going to beat the shit out of me because I dared to disagree with him." He thought of Kaido, and his smile grew shark-like and cold. "He may pretend to be different but Yonko are all the same. They don't accept 'no' as an answer and you either choose to join them or die,  _right?_ "

"Oyaji isn't like that!"

It was not Namur who answered, but Haruta. The Twelfth Division Commander stormed up to Ace, expression taut with hostility, and jabbed the teen in the chest with his forefinger. Ace twitched at the contact and backed out of range, glowering. Haruta did not give him time to speak.

"Oyaji isn't like that." He repeated in a snarl. "He  _is_  giving you a choice, which is better than you deserve,  _dumbass_."

_Haruta gave an unmanly squeal as ice water fell over his head. The bucket that once held the liquid landed on the Commander, covering his face, and his muffled yelps were nearly covered by Ace's laughter. Haruta lifted the rim of the bucket, glowering at his little brother._

" _A bucket over the doorway? How cliché can you get?"_

" _Says the person who fell for it." Ace crowed._

_He tiptoed forward, reaching out as if he were going to retrieve the bucket, but darted out of range before the Commander could tackle him and get him wet as well. Haruta took the pail off, eyes glinting._

" _This attack cannot be forgiven. This means war. Prepare yourself!"_

_Ace was already running before Haruta began to give chase. He led the Commander on a merry run through the Moby Dick, laughing all the while. His other brothers were graceful enough to sidle out of his path, with some conveniently blocking Haruta when he too tried to pass. The Twelfth Division Commander should have grown suspicious when Ace did not run to Oyaji or Marco for 'safety', instead heading deeper into the ship. Alas, so intent on the chase was he, that he only grinned viciously when Ace ran into a dead end._

" _Got you!" Haruta shouted, lunging for the fire-user._

_Ace grinned cheekily and nodded to the hidden Thatch, who dutifully pulled the string he held onto. Buckets of condiments and glitter fell onto the Twelfth Division Commander, covering him in gunk. Haruta's scream was heard all throughout the ship, loud enough to almost mask the sounds of Thatch and Ace's cackles. Haruta stood in the center of the hall, fingers twitching and mayo and ketchup dripping from his hair and down his shoulders. Thatch sauntered up to him casually, a superior smirk on his face._

" _One of my subordinates found a stock of expired condiments. We were going to throw them out but Ace whipped up a good use for them. Of course,_ _ **I**_ _added the glitter for some extra flair." He giggled, barely able to force out the final words. "W-What do you think?"_

_Haruta made a strangled screeching noise. "You're dead. You're so_   _ **dead**_ _!"_

_He tackled Thatch to the ground, who was too busy laughing to try to get away. Ace had no such trouble, quickly exiting the room with Haruta screaming threats behind him._

" _You can't escape me! I'll get you for this! Get back here and face me like a man, you_ _ **dumbass**_ _!"_

Ace remembered a time when the insult was said with affection and laughter in Haruta's voice. To him, it had only been days ago. To the blue-eyed Commander, that never happened. The teen swallowed in an attempt to clear the tightness in his throat.

"So you're telling me that if I wanted to leave the next time we hit an island, you'd let me?" he challenged, already knowing the answer.

Haruta snorted. "You're not going to leave. Oyaji wants you to be one of us." His tone suggested how much he wanted that.

Ace's subconscious mind finally seemed to accept his former brother's antagonism for there was not the slightest twinge of sadness in his chest. "That's what I thought." He said quietly. The teen shoved his way past the Whitebeard Pirates. "If your Captain wants to talk to me, he can come and drag me out of my room like the prisoner I am."

He heard Haruta move behind him, only to stop, and guessed Namur had stopped the shorter Commander. Ace did not look back to check. He had to be distant, and aggressive, and cold. He had to sneer at Namur even though the Fishman had saved his life thousands of times, and snap at Haruta even though the Commander used to be his partner-in-pranks alongside Thatch. If he let them in, there would be no choice for him other than staying and eventually losing them all. And he could not go through that again.

" _Promise… me…" he whispered through bloody lips._

Ace gave a hollow chuckle. "'Choices'. What a fucking joke."

OPOPOPOPOP

Something had changed in the brat.

Namur stared at the empty doorway Portgas D. Ace had exited from, mulling over the mystery that was the boy's strange behavior. Or perhaps it was not strangeness that made the pain dull his grey eyes, but a failing mask of strength that was beginning to crack. The Fishman was not one to think deeply about the psychology of humans but he could not help but notice the different in Fire Fist.

Those eyes… Namur used to see them in the mirror, before he was found and accepted by Oyaji. They were the eyes of someone who looked at themselves and hated their reflection for things that they could not hope to change or control. He bore that look when he faced the spite of humanity, despising his genetics and— at his lowest points— wondering if their disgust with his kind was justified. Whitebeard and his newfound family had been quick to show Namur that kind of thinking was wrong, that it was the humans that were the problem, not him, but he still remembered hating himself for being what he was.

There was no doubt in his mind that Fire Fist felt a similar way. Similar, but not exactly like Namur's own past feelings about himself. For the brat, it was almost like there was something more than his current situation that made him think he should suffer, some other mistake that he could not accept he had escaped punishment for. Or maybe it was something even deeper than that, a personality trait or bloodline or other secret he held inside that he thought he should be shunned for daring to have. That was a mentality no one the teen's age should bear.

And it had Namur worried despite his naturally mistrusting nature. The brat's eyes did not just hold misery and self-hatred, but a dullness that showed he was close to giving up. His ire was faked, his anger and sneer even more so, and in the Fishman's eyes, his fragile mask barely hid the exhaustion within. How deep did that tiredness go? Was it merely from a lack of sleep… or was it something much more worrying?

Namur shook his head, banishing the thought that came next. He looked to Haruta, who was staring in the same direction as he with a disgusted curl to his lips. Upon seeing he was the focus of the Fishman's attention, the Commander huffed angrily.

"I can't believe he's so ungrateful." Haruta growled. "Oyaji's spared his stupid ass dozens of times yet the brat's acting like he killed his mother. How long is it going to take for it to get through his thick skull that we aren't trying to kill him?"

"Longer than it once did if Oyaji 'attacked' him." Namur murmured.

He did not doubt that Fire Fist's claim was true, as much as he wished to deny it. There was no benefit from lying about such an incident to the Whitebeard Pirates since it would not cause uncertainty in their ranks. They knew Oyaji too well to believe he would lose his temper and harm any of them. Namur had to wonder what button the brat had pushed to make their father react violently though. It took a lot to make Whitebeard mad at even his worst enemies— which usually only happened when one of his children was harmed— and Fire Fist was someone the Yonko wanted to recruit, meaning he would be extra careful with the twitchy brat.

"Serves him right. He probably did something to deserve it." Haruta said dismissively.

Something ugly twisted Namur's gut. He gently grasped his brother's shoulders, making the shorter male look at him. "Be careful with that way of thinking, Haruta." He said seriously. "These things are usually more complicated then they seem, and we do not know the whole story."

"Okay? Whatever, I guess." The Commander blinked confused blue eyes and shrugged. "So can I go drag the fire brat to Oyaji?"

Namur let the matter go and shook his head. "It's probably best to leave him alone for now. I personally don't want to get burned."

"Yeah. I bet Bay would be unsympathetic too and yell at us for 'antagonizing' her patient." Haruta rolled his eyes. "I have to get back to navigation. See you around."

Namur waved to his brother and they went their separate ways, with the Fishman heading towards the upper levels. His feet took him towards the deck, but his mind lingered on the sudden mystery that was Fire Fist. Something was definitely different about the brat. Something had changed, and it might not be for the better. He was acting  _off_ , like he was forcing himself to pretend to be normal, and was definitely hiding something. Something big and likely dangerous. Namur did not know what it might be— a part of the brat's past, a horrific discovery, some other problem he could not comprehend— but unknowns could prove to be problematic and could easily become threats to his family.

One thing was for certain. The Commander needed to discover what that secret was. He had to make sure that whatever secret Fire Fist held wasn't going to harm his loved ones. To do that, Namur wasn't going to let the brat out of his sight.

OPOPOPOPOP

Namur was stalking him.

That was a phrase Ace never so much as considered thinking, yet here he was with a Fishman shadow to call his very own. As he crept towards Whitebeard's room to get his daily assassination attempt done and over with, the teen had half a mind to turn around and confront Namur for following him like a creep. Of course, that would involve interacting with the Commander and making him suspicious as to how the rookie pirate had sensed him, things Ace quite frankly did not want to deal with today.

So Ace pretended not to notice Namur lingering nearby as he approached the sleeping Whitebeard's side, the Fishman remaining unmoving even as he stood over the Yonko. His blatant dismissal of the teen as a threat may have been insulting once. It  _still_  was a little insulting, actually. But things like pride were stupid in situations like this. He was not truly trying to kill Whitebeard so who cared?

_Here goes nothing_ , Ace thought unenthusiastically and lunged.

He propelled his body out of the way of Whitebeard's first punch, launched himself away from the path of his second, but intentionally fell into range of his third. A large fist struck him directly in the stomach and Ace soared through multiple walls before hitting the railing. He slumped to the deck and hissed softly between his teeth, hand twitching towards his abdomen.

_Yup. That's going to bruise._

He stayed on the ground and laid his head against the railing, letting the distant groans and complaints of rudely awakened pirates wash over him. Someone would come to check on him soon.

_I'd better get up then._

Ace got to his feet and cracked his neck. There weren't any dislocated vertebrae this time. Good. His injury stung but it did not feel like any of the stitches ripped. Very good. He'd hate giving Bay an excuse to lock him in the infirmary. Though she might already be tempted to when she found out about his assassination attempt…

And Namur was still watching from a distance like a creep.

Ace's eye twitched and he did his best not to turn and glare in the Fishman's direction.  _Why_  was he tailing the teen?  _What_  had Ace done to gain his attention? The Logia knew he could probably figure it out if he let himself think about it, but he was sick of having to analyze his every move. He was supposed to be doing whatever the hell he wanted this loop, not trying to constantly strategize in order to avoid disasters.

_Maybe he just wants to talk to me?_  Ace thought.

Sometimes the most mundane possibilities were the reasons for things. If that were the case, Ace would let the conversation happen. Namur's interest probably meant he wanted to get to know the teen and was uncertain how to approach, and Ace needed to nip that hope for a bond before it could grow.

With that in mind, the Logia turned to the sea and waited to see if Namur would approach him but the Fishman Commander stayed where he was, watching. Ace's annoyance peaked as the uncertainty poked at him. Fine. If Namur was just going to linger for no reason, he might as well draw the Fishman out.

Ace climbed onto the railing and jumped.

He heard Namur's horrified scream just before he hit the sea. Sounds grew muffled and his skin became cold as the water closed over his head. The teen dutifully held his breath, staying calm as he sank. Ace had drowned so many times it did not scare him anymore. Compared to many of his deaths, it was a rather peaceful way to go. He had to admit, the sensation of being paralyzed was still unnerving but also oddly serene. He was helpless and completely reliant on others to save him but if they failed, the only consequence would be a new loop.

For a second, Ace considered resetting. He had already made a bunch of mistakes, raising the suspicion of the Whitebeards, and he could do with a fresh start. But chances were he would reset to a later time when they truly cared for him. The thought of being looked at with something other than exasperation or disdain was tempting… but he couldn't do it.

_I need to stop being selfish and get out of their lives._

So Ace continued holding his breath instead of letting the water fill his lungs and end the loop. He barely began to feel a slight strain in his lungs before arms wrapped around him and he was dragged to the surface. His head broke above the water and he inhaled sharply, lungs burning from the small amounts of water that had gotten into his mouth. He laid his head against the cold, wet shoulder of his savior and idly noticed Namur was cursing up a storm.

The Fishman dragged the teen through the waves, accepting the rope someone threw to them and pulling them both onto the Moby Dick. Ace was unceremoniously deposited on the deck but instead of concerned faces, he was accosted by a furious Commander.

" _What the Hell was that?!_  Were you trying to kill yourself, you  _idiot?!_ " Namur shouted.

Ace spat up some water and grinned. "Not this time."

The Fishman's jaw clamped shut, his eyes going slightly round.

Cursing mentally, Ace forced his smile to grow cold. "I just wanted to go for a swim. What, am I not allowed to do that either?"

Namur's features twisted like he could not decide whether to be annoyed or wary. "…You're a Devil Fruit user." He said eventually.

Ace's grin widened. "Yeah, but maybe if I believe with all my little heart, I'll be able to swim one day." He kept his tone mocking and cold.

Namur stared at him like he was nuts. Good, he was learning. Anything the Fishman might have said next was interrupted as more pirates converged around the two, laughter and jeers reaching Ace's waterlogged ears.

"Decided to go for another swim, eh fire brat?"

"At least you missed the railing!"

"Oyaji got you good."

"Maybe you should try aiming for the door next time. Save us some money!"

Luckily, Ace quickly comprehended that Namur was the only one to see his dive was intentional. The others believed that he had been thrown overboard from their Captain's throw. The remnants of hurt that wanted to blossom from their at-first harsh-sounding words faded away and the teen put on his usual scowl.

Ace got up and squeezed the water from his shorts, flicking more liquid from his hair. He did not bother speaking to the pirates or thanking Namur for the save, instead stalking off like a moody teenager. Voices followed him and the teen's hands twitched, desiring to cover his ears to block out their words.

No one followed him.

No one asked if he was okay.

No one cared.

_Stop being a child. This is what I want._

The saltwater was still making his eyes burn. It was worth it though. Namur wasn't stalking him anymore. At least for now. The Fishman remained on the deck without even calling out to Ace or demanding he explain himself further. Apparently the Logia's little stunt had not shocked him that much. Ace just hoped it would keep Namur from tailing him for a few days. It was weird and unexpected and the teen hated unexpected things. Though in hindsight, he probably should have just turned around and confronted the Fishman instead of jumping into the sea like a suicidal idiot—

Ace froze and stared at the ceiling, all of his recent actions rushing back to him in a single, comprehensive unit.

Fact: Ace had jumped into the ocean when he could not swim.

Fact: Namur had seen it.

Fact: Ace had casually mentioned trying to end his life before.

Fact: Ace had recklessly taken a blow for Thatch— a person that he barely knew from the Whitebeard Pirates' point of view— that could have easily been fatal.

Fact: Statistics stated that Namur would tell Marco about what happened, and Ace had mentioned killing himself around the Phoenix as well.

Conclusion: Namur probably thought he was suicidal, and Marco might soon as well. Suicidal, as in a person who needed  _love_  and  _care_  and  _friendship_  and  _help_. The exact  _opposite_  reaction than what Ace wanted.

A blank, twisted scowl made its way onto Ace's features, his teeth clenching so hard he was surprised his bones did not crack. An anguished, hysterical fury bubbled under his skin, too wild and incomprehensible to form into words. The desire to rage and scream and bash his head against a wall was almost overwhelming, but acting like a snapped lunatic would not help the Whitebeard Pirates' perception of his mental health.

So he breathed and wrestled his anger at his own stupidity firmly under control, refraining from falling into the broken mentality that popped up whenever his situation became too much for him. This was nothing he couldn't handle. He could deal with this, and stay stable and  _calllllmmmmmm_. No rampaging. No hysterical laughter. No mental breakdowns. No screaming like he was being murdered because he'd fucked up he'd fucked up so bad  _why the HELL DID HE DO THAT—?_

_Calm_.

Ace forced himself to get to his room and shut the door behind him. His hands shook a little but other than that he remained outwardly serene. It was okay. He would move on. There was no use wallowing in the past. He could not stop it unless he reset, so all he could do was plan for the future. He could fix this and make Marco and Namur see it was a misunderstanding so they would not become determined to fix him. The situation was still salvageable. He could still follow his plan.

_They'd better not tell Thatch or Whitebeard. Or Bay._

He knew they probably would.

Ace looked at the ceiling and smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. "Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet a lot of you were expecting more concern for Ace from some Whitebeards this chapter, but that didn't happen because Ace didn't let it. Basically, Ace knew people would mother hen (Thatch/Oyaji/Marco) or try to approach him with friendly intent so he rushed off and avoided everyone who might feel differently about him now. But that doesn't mean their care/interest doesn't exist…


	5. Dangerous

Marco solemnly studied Namur's face. "Are you sure, yoi?"

The Fishman crossed his arms, an unhappy frown stretched across his sharp features. "You know I am."

The Phoenix tore his gaze away from his brother's dark eyes, looking past him at Oyaji. Whitebeard stayed silent for a time, his chin balanced on his right hand as he stared at the wall over his children's heads. Marco kept quiet— as did Namur and Bay— and all three patiently waited for their father to gather his thoughts.

Finally, Whitebeard exhaled, settling back. "This is… disturbing. For one so young to speak of such things so casually…"

"How old is he?" Bay questioned. "Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"We think he's seventeen, yoi." Marco told her. "He hasn't exactly been willing to share anything about himself."

"Except for the fact that he apparently tried to kill himself before." Bay said grimly.

Marco could not find the strength to meet her intense, angry glare. "Except that."

A hollow and slightly painful sensation settled in his gut at the blunt reminder. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to even consider it to be true. And yet the topic could not be avoided. Portgas D. Ace— a Devil Fruit user who had no hope of swimming— had willingly thrown himself into the sea and had made a comment about 'not trying to kill himself  _that time_ ' when he'd been pulled out.

Marco had seen and helped depressed brothers before, but Fire Fist was a teenager. He was a  _kid_  who should be so much more optimistic and less world-weary than the rest of them. What could have happened to him to make him so uncaring about his own life?

Now Marco could not help but wonder if Fire Fist attacked Oyaji in an attempt to go out in a blaze of glory. Suddenly every scoff and insult he'd directed at the kid felt a thousand times crueler, like he'd been intentionally goading Fire Fist even though Marco had no way of knowing about his apparently low sense of self-worth.

Fighting against the guilt, the Phoenix looked to his father, taking in his solemn visage. Whitebeard's expression revealed none of his thoughts. He could be thinking about Fire Fist or hiding his severe disappointment in his children and Marco would never know. The Yonko preferred the hands-off approach for his family, letting them make their own choices and figure out things on their own. But occasionally— like the children they were— they messed up and made decisions so stupid that even their Oyaji could not believe what they had done.

Looking down on a teenager that was one day meant to be a brother, laughing at him as he was thrown about like a ragdoll, and mocking him like he was nothing more than entertainment… Marco was certain that his father was upset with what they had done.

It had not been intentional and certainly had not been done with malice, but when put into context their reactions to Fire Fist had been immature and unacceptable. Add in their newest revelation and they were outright horrendous. But Oyaji would not mention his displeasure, and it would not do to dwell on the mistakes of the past.

"What can we do to help, yoi?" Marco asked Bay.

The doctor ran a hand through her hair, flicking it out of her face. "Not as much as I'd like. If the kid  _is_  suicidal, you aren't the best people to help him. In his mind, you're enemies and he won't tell enemies what he's thinking."

Something in Marco's chest tightened. He could not discern whether it was from frustration or guilt. "What about medication?"

Bay gave him a flat, unimpressed glower. " _That's_  your reaction? Meds might not help, idiot. They're not magical cures! And we both know he won't take them even if I prescribed them."

The Phoenix grudgingly admitted she was right with a nod.

"What can we do then?" Namur asked.

The Fishman fiddled with his sleeve, looking highly uncomfortable with the topic. Marco understood but he was not about to let his brother bail out after delivering such an issue.

"Watch him." Bay said bluntly. "And I don't mean stalk him like you were earlier." She ignored Namur's flustered denials. "I mean watch him  _subtly_  and make sure he doesn't do anything."

"Do you think he will?" Whitebeard asked worriedly.

Bay shrugged. "I have to talk to him to get an idea of his actual mental state and if he's in any danger. But from what you told me…" She crossed her arms. "I don't think he'll go jump in the sea again. He sounds like the type to go out in a fight or leap between a loved one and a bullet."

Marco closed his eyes, recalling the immediate aftermath of Fire Fist's injury.

_After the kid went limp, Thatch began to scream. It was a horrendous sound, one Marco had not heard in a long time and hoped he never heard again. The chef tried to reach for Fire Fist but the Phoenix pulled him away, struggling to keep his friend back._

" _Thatch! Get ahold of yourself! Let the nurses work."_

_The chef ignored Marco, thrashing in his hold and reaching out with blood-covered sleeves. "He took it for me!" Thatch yelled. "That blow— It was meant for_ _ **me!** _ _He—Why would he do that? It's not right. I'm supposed to_ _ **protect** _ _him!"_

It had taken half an hour to calm the distraught chef down, and he refused to leave Fire Fist's side for a second while he was unconscious in the medical bay. Marco did not know how, but the brat had already wormed his way into Thatch's soft heart, making him care in a way that was surprisingly strong even for the kind Fourth Division Commander. And with no offense meant to said Commander… caring made him tend to follow his heart more than his head, even when the situation required logical thought more than emotions.

"We shouldn't tell Thatch about this, yoi." Marco advised. "You know how he'll react."

The others nodded in unanimous agreement. The chef was obviously attached and tended to not be the most subtle man when worried. He'd be his lovable, well-meaning self… and inevitably make relations with the twitchy, secretive Fire Fist worse.

"It would probably be best if we didn't tell anyone else either." Bay said. "I don't think Ace will forgive us if we did."

"Not to mention he'll probably assume everyone was trying to be friendly out of pity." Namur added.

"He already thinks that, yoi." Marco said.  _And it's partially true._

"Yeah, well it would only make things worse." Namur said.

Marco conceded his point. "I agree. Onto the actual reason we came here…" He looked at Bay. "How's Oyaji?"

"He's as fine as can be." The doctor reported. "He really should be taking it easy instead of leaping into battle, though."

"I'm right here, you know." The Yonko said pointedly.

His children ignored him.

"No further heart complications?" Marco pressed. "I swear his breathing sounded funny after that fight."

"I'm afraid he aggravated his condition." Bay said. "The sake isn't helping. Can't you dump it?"

"If I did, he'd find a way to get more, yoi." Marco said gravely.

"I'm still here. I'm not deaf enough to be unable to hear you." Whitebeard said almost plaintively.

His children shot him unimpressed looks. "We know."

"You really do need to take better care of yourself, Oyaji." Bay said passionately. "Your health isn't as good as it used to be."

The Yonko's eyes softened and he gently patted her hair. "I am aware, child. But I feel that I have a few years left in me. I do not want to spend them fearing tomorrow and sitting with an IV stand. Let me worry about my health, all right?"

Bay wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Sorry Oyaji, but worrying about you is kind of my job. That's why you called me here, after all."

"And there's nothing different you can do that my nurses are not already capable of doing." Whitebeard said gently. "I do not wish to drag you away from your own adventures so you have to care for your old man."

"Well I'm going to do it anyway." The doctor said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Don't think it's just for you. Fire Fist has caught my interest and I personally don't want to leave him alone. I'd like to help him, if I can. I have less history with him so maybe he'll be more willing to open up to me than you lot."

Marco withheld a wince. "That sounds like a good idea, yoi. You can continue monitoring Oyaji's health too while you're here."

"That's the plan." Bay said, ignoring Whitebeard's annoyed sigh.

Namur pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against. "I'll escort you to the medbay. You know the nurses won't relinquish control over Oyaji's well-being without a fight."

"I don't blame them. I'd act the same." Bay admitted with a careless shrug.

The two left. Marco made to follow, only to be stopped when his father called his name. Whitebeard met the Phoenix's blue gaze silently for a long time, as if he were trying to see his every thought and feeling. Something in Marco's expression apparently satisfied him, for Oyaji relaxed.

"Watch out for Ace, Marco." The Yonko ordered quietly.

The Phoenix gave a sharp nod. "I was already planning to, yoi."

OPOPOPOPOP

" _THATCH!"_

_Ace could not stop the scream from tearing its way from his throat when he saw his worst nightmare before him. His brother lay on the ground, blood dripping from the stab wound in his back, his empty eyes staring lifelessly ahead. The twenty year-old fire-user fell to his knees at the chef's side as he continued to shout for help, fingers scrabbling as he searched for a pulse. There was none. Thatch's body was already cooling beneath his fingertips._

_Ace let out a sob, hardly noticing Marco's gasp. He did not react to the Phoenix as he fell to his knees beside them, frantically calling Thatch's name. How did he let this happen? He_ _**knew**  T_ _each would attack Thatch tonight. How could he have forgotten to protect his friend?_

_In the end, it was all of the little things. Earlier that day, he had seen Thatch return with the fruit. He had spotted Teach's psychotic and greedy grin. He had prepared for tonight, going over his plan like he always did, but then Marco had come to him about the paperwork he had been unable to hand in yesterday._

_The fire-user had been too stressed about today to complete the reports but he could not give that as an excuse, so he merely agreed to finish them now. He had gone through paper after paper, watching the clock tick closer to that tragic moment… and had accidentally fallen asleep at his desk._

_One simple mistake that he could not foresee, and now Thatch was dead because of it._

_Someone took Thatch from his numb arms. Ace tried to fight them, screaming that they couldn't take him away, but Marco grabbed and held him, blue fire rising to heal the damage from the Logia's orange. Ace tried to talk to the Phoenix, to explain, but his attempts only came out as random babble._

" _My fault." He rambled. "It's my fault. I should have been here. I was supposed to be here!"_

_Marco held him tighter, letting him thrash and sob, but he did not understand the depth of Ace's guilt. He did not know about the stupid misstep that had resulted in Thatch's death,_   _ **again**_ _._

_That night, Ace went after Blackbeard._

_He defeated the bastard and avenged Thatch._

_Three years later, he died protecting Luffy from Kaido._

_As he sank into oblivion, Ace was rather glad. It was time for his next chance. He'd be better this time. He'd save Thatch and everyone else he had lost. He could still do this._

_He wouldn't make the same mistakes again._

Ace slowly opened his dry eyes as a bitter smile stretched across his face. He tried to force his lips down but could not manage it, instead maintaining the cold grin that would probably make people think he was plotting murder if they saw it.

Because he had made the same mistakes.

Over and over and over and over and over—

" _Promise… me…"_

Ace shoved the memories away. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he returned to his room. It didn't matter that he had just awoken before attacking Whitebeard. He was just so damn tired and with dreams filled with memories of his previous failures, it was no wonder he felt like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

The teen turned onto his back and peered at the door, trying to judge how long he had been out. Was it the same day or had he slept through until the next morning? The light that came through the cracks revealed nothing so he shrugged and pulled his blanket over his head.

He should get up. He really should. But what would he do if he did? Go and try to kill Whitebeard again? Run around and make his not-family loathe him? The mere thought of doing anything made his entire body seem heavier, like a physical force was pressing down on him and keeping him in the bed. What was the point of getting up at all? He didn't have anything important to do. There was no goal to follow, no people to save or stop. Ace was practically useless.

The sound of an opening door brought Ace out of his thoughts. He shifted the blanket and spotted familiar blue hair. The teen withheld a groan and put the blanket back over his head. Maybe he could still pretend to be asleep—

"I know you're awake." Bay said. "Now get up. I'm here to check your bandages."

Ace was sorely tempted to ignore her. He knew the doctor well enough to guess the result of such an action, however, and did not want to deal with an irate Bay at the moment. It would be too much effort.

_The sooner she does what she wants, the sooner she'll leave._

Ace sat up and turned around, exposing his back to the doctor without a word. Bay hesitated— likely startled by his lack of complaint or threats— and began fiddling with the bandages, gently peeling them away. Ace stared blankly at the wall as she worked, remaining unflinching even as Bay slipped and accidentally brushed his wound.

The doctor murmured an apology and the teen's stomach twisted into knots. She should be chiding him for not going to her to get the bandages changed or berating him for falling into the sea with wounds like this. Unless, of course, she knew about—

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" the doctor asked casually.

Ace groaned internally.  _Really subtle, Bay. Your discretion astounds me._ "No."

"Okay." She said quietly.

The beat of silence that followed did not last nearly as long as Ace hoped.

"You know, I'm surprised you can lay on your back." Bay commented. "It should hurt like a son of a gun."

Ace idly noted the dull burning down his torso before disregarding it. "Not really."

"Uh huh."

It was evident that she didn't believe him, likely assuming he was putting on a tough guy act. Ace would let her keep thinking that. He had nothing to prove...

… _Except that I'm_ _ **not**_ _suicidal._

The muscles of Ace's face twitched but he stopped his expression from falling into a grimace or smile. Bay would assume he was in pain for the former, and even more unwell if she saw the latter. The slight hesitation in her movements showed that she did indeed notice, keeping silent as she made more and more damning assumptions about him—

"So when are you going to yell at me?" he asked.

It was a bad idea to talk but the alternative was sinking into his thoughts and getting grabbed by the bitter frustration that wanted to make him forget the consequences and  _hunt down his enemies so he could tear them apart—_

"Why would I yell at you?" she questioned, voice calm.

Of course she was acting calm. Of  _course_. Why would Bay act otherwise with such a  _fragile_  patient? She thought Ace was a bloody wimp with the emotional strength of tissue paper that would throw himself off a building if she looked at him wrong so of course she wouldn't act like she normally would and smack him over the head for being stupid—

"Aren't you mad I disobeyed you?" Ace snapped, louder than he intended.

He wanted— no,  _demanded_  that the doctor be angry with him. The alternative— the unnecessary coddling— was something he could not deal with. In fact it was even worse than her normal response of berating him for stupid decisions. It went against everything he needed to happen. Bay was being  _nice_  to him— almost  _motherly_ — after he snubbed her, all because of a false misconception, and it was damn  _infuriating_.

_Hate me, damn you._

"I'm a little annoyed but I'm not about to smack you for ignoring my advice." Bay said, still fucking  _calm_. "I know my idiot brothers claim all medical staff are demons but honestly attacking patients for being dumb is counterproductive. If you do that you have to patch them up again."

"Whatever." Ace grunted, unable to find anything else to say. "Are you done?"

The doctor settled back. "Yes. Good news: You didn't tear any stitches during your stunt earlier."

"Yay." Ace said flatly.

Bay looked skyward but continued. "That was only because you were stupidly lucky. If you hit the wood wrong you would've been bleeding all over the deck. Is that what you want?"

"Oh, yes. I just love bleeding everywhere and being an inconvenience." Ace said tonelessly.

Bay's expression grew pinched before instantly smoothing out. Ace mentally bashed his head against a wall. It was all he could do, because actually performing the act would only make him dig himself deeper into the hole he had created. He really needed to stop being sarcastic because all it was doing was causing him problems. But the alternative to maybe-truths delivered with sarcasm was bursting into tears or screaming until his throat was raw so—

Okay,  _maybe_  he really needed to think of a better coping mechanism.

"…Are you okay?"

And there it was. Ace could hear the sincerity in the softly-delivered question and mentally groaned.  _Fuuuuuu—_

"Screw off." He snapped, shoving Bay away.

The doctor backed up but still hovered. Damn her.

Ace gritted his teeth and threw caution to the wind. "If you're done then go away and leave me alone."

Bay did not snap at him or lecture him on his lack of manners, further proving that she thought he was a poor, sad soul that needed fixing. Instead she retreated and paused in the doorway, looking back.

"If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

She left before he could respond.

Damn.

It.

_All._

The urge to scream in frustration was back but Ace forced it down. This was worse than any of the other times his family thought he was 'troubled' because at least during those loops they genuinely loved him and wanted him to see value in his life. This time their concern had to spawn completely from pity. They didn't care about Ace. Ace had given them no reason to. So now they would try to 'help' him and be more tolerant to his 'flaws' because he was 'venting'.

Ace growled and got up. Laying around in bed all day would not dispel their misconceptions. He might as well go out and be a bastard so they'd hopefully lose their newfound 'understanding' and get sick of him.

He made it exactly two steps out of his room before coming face-to-face with Thatch's smiling mug.

Five seconds. Could they leave him alone for five  _damn seconds?!_

His eyes narrowed. "Screw off, moron."

"Nice to see you too." The chef said happily. "I was wondering when you'd come out. Now come with me so we can get your new shirt."

He slung his arm across Ace's shoulders. Already on edge, the teen blinked and found he had put his dagger to the Commander's wrist. He did not even remember moving. It wasn't the throat but a good slash would put Thatch out of commission so he could esc—  _Stop it._  Ace fought the instinct to pull the weapon away and apologize, repeating his mantra.

_Not my family. Not my family._

"Don't. Touch me." He growled.

Thatch slowly backed off and raised his hands. "Sorry. But you really do need to come with me."

How could he smile at Ace after the teen threatened him with a knife?  _Moron._  "I don't want a new shirt."

"Don't care. Izo insisted. He'll get scary if you refuse."

Ace knew it.

Ace hated it.

Ace did his best not to break at the familiarity of it.

"Whatever. Do what you want."

He really hoped Thatch did not notice his voice came out choked.

OPOPOPOPOP

"No. Hell no."

Ace took off the garish bright orange shirt as quickly as possible, letting the horrific garment fall to the floor. He did not know how he had been blackmailed into playing dress up— Oh wait, yes he did. The reason was named 'Izo'.

When he arrived, the teen had intended to accept the first shirt he given to him— with appropriate scowling and snarling— and go on his merry way. He should have known Izo better. When the okama and clothes were put in the same situation, hours would be wasted without fail. Izo had taken one look at Ace and become obsessed with 'bringing his look together'— as in finding a shirt that went with his hat.

The Logia's attempts to interject and stop the madness had been ignored. He was honestly debating whether he should burn all the clothes and be done with it and the familiar way in which Izo flitted about the room, picking up shirts for him to try was wearing down at Ace's already tenacious hold on his emotions. The desire to scream at the okama to  _stop acting like his brother_  was growing stronger with each worn and discarded garment and he was not sure how much longer he would hold out.

Seriously, what the Hell was with all the stupid bright colors? Just because he wore a yellow shirt did not mean he  _liked_  it. Were they trying to make him look friendlier or something? Was  _that_  their goal?

"Try this one." Izo said, seemingly unaware of the explosion waiting to happen.

The fact that the new shirt was not a blinding neon was not enough to quell Ace's ire. He angrily put the offered black shirt on and glowered.

Thatch squeaked. "Little intense there, buddy. If looks could kill…"

Ace's face darkened further.

Thatch physically hid behind Izo, who remained impassive in the face of Ace's building fury.

"Perhaps a cooler color." He murmured, turning back to the closet.

Ace had to wonder if the okama was ignorant or simply had nerves of steel. Knowing his brot— the Commander, the latter was most likely the case. A new piece of cloth was thrown at his face and he caught it, pausing.

It was blue. Almost a sky blue.

Blue was Sabo's color.

Like his shirt and his eyes. Ace couldn't remember his brother's face but he recalled that. Though Sabo's blue might be darker than this. Or was it lighter?

_It's been so long. I don't remember anymore._

"Well?" Izo asked impatiently.

Ace's hands trembled as he put the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned. He stared at himself in the mirror neutrally. The hue matched the buttons on his hat perfectly. It should satisfy Izo's need for color coordination. And yet, looking at it, Ace felt strangely hollow.

_I don't deserve to wear Sabo's color. He'd be so much better at this than me. He'd be able to save everyone._

The tiredness returned, sinking into his flesh and bones, and Ace didn't have the energy to argue anymore. "Whatever."

"I think that might be a yes." Thatch stage whispered.

Izo did not speak at first. The lack of approval, snide comments, or pride was telling, and Ace knew the okama had sensed his shift in mood. Yet another person was seeing his how broken he was inside. Ace couldn't bring himself to care.

"You don't have to keep it forever." Izo said eventually. "Once we reach the next island in a couple weeks, you can buy something yourself. I expect that back then."

"Fine." Ace forced out, unable to say anything else.

He did not thank them or say goodbye, instead walking out of Izo's room without another word. He gripped the blue fabric of the shirt, rubbing it between his fingers. It was so soft and light. So why did it feel heavy?

Slowly, Izo's words came back to him, and he exhaled, closing his eyes.

_A couple weeks until the next island, huh?_

It was not as long as Ace predicted but was not as short as he hoped. Still, if he worked hard, it should be plenty of time to make the Whitebeard Pirates to want him gone. He needed to reinforce the disgust of those that disliked him and focus on shoving away those that didn't until they  _stayed_  away. He couldn't let the memories haunt him. He couldn't let the exhaustion immobilize him. He couldn't afford to mope or hesitate anymore.

It was time to make himself as unlikable as possible.

And he knew  _exactly_  how to do it.

OPOPOPOPOP

_Ace landed on his butt. The seventeen year-old would later deny that he squeaked as he did so, but the laughter that sounded around him told him he indeed had made the_ _**adorable** _ _noise, and his family would not let him forget it any time soon. Marco shook his head and helped his little brother to his feet._

" _Are you alright, yoi?"_

" _Yeah." Ace muttered, rubbing his tailbone. "It just startled me."_

_The Phoenix nodded and backed away, allowing Jozu to approach. The giant smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that, kid."_

" _It's fine." Ace said briskly. "We can keep going."_

_The two settled into fighting stances, while Marco lingered on the sidelines. Without waiting for a signal, Ace lunged, propelling himself into the air and punching at Jozu. The Commander blocked with a diamond-covered arm but Ace twisted, kicking him in the side. Thanks to Jozu's ability, the blow did no damage, though the force did cause the large Commander to wince._

_Meanwhile, Marco called advice._

" _When fighting larger opponents you can't just stand there and take their hits. You'll be knocked out in a second. Use your size and mobility to your advantage, yoi."_

" _Don't let yourself get grabbed. You may be a Logia, but many of your enemies will have a way to counter your powers. You can't rely on them to break free."_

" _Stay light on your feet. Keep moving."_

" _Don't expect larger enemies to be slow. They may surprise you."_

" _Look out for—"_

_A hit connected and Ace fell on his butt with a squeaky yelp again. His family laughed. The Logia got up and brushed himself off while simultaneously giving them the bird. His action caused a majority to start snickering again._

" _Rude, Ace. I'm gonna tell Marco." Thatch sniffed. He threw himself at the First Division Commander and clung to him. "Marrrcccooo, Ace was mean!"_

_The Phoenix looked skyward. "What am I, your mother?"_

" _Yes." Thatch said innocently. "You should already know that, seeing as how you're such a mother hen— Ow!"_

_Marco calmly lowered his hand, pleased by the nice bump he left on Thatch's head. He continued like nothing had happened. "Look out for the legs, yoi. Jozu may look top-heavy but he's still capable of kicking."_

" _I noticed." Ace grumbled. "You keep talking about avoiding devastating blows but what if I can't dodge?"_

_The Phoenix thought about it. "Try to redirect the force of the strike as much as you can. You're not fragile by any means but large opponents can pack quite a wallop. You_ _**need** _ _to learn how to dodge instead of relying on your powers."_

" _I know that." Ace said. "It's been hammered into me." He muttered._

_Thatch heard him. "You thinking of all your lost fights with Oyaji, kid?" he asked with a grin._

And Kaido. And Big Mom. And Teach, _Ace thought. "Sure."_

" _You aren't planning on using anything I teach you against Oyaji, are you?" Marco teased._

_Ace's back stiffened. "_ _ **Never!** " _ _he spat._

_Marco raised his hands in a calming motion. "Relax, yoi. I was joking." He looked between the teen and Jozu. "Do you want to try again?"_

_Ace felt something in his back twinge. "Just give me a second." He said reluctantly._

_Marco nodded in acceptance. "There's no rush."_

_Jozu eyed him thoughtfully. "So why do you want to learn to fight bigger enemies? Most you encounter will be around your size. Who are you thinking about facing?"_

" _Akainu, Kizaru, Big Mom, Sengoku, and Kaido." Ace replied steadily._ And Teach.

_Thatch gave a startled laugh. "Geez, Ace. Put the bar a little lower, would you? You're a kid. You can't go fighting Admirals and Yonko yet."_

" _Just because I can't doesn't mean it won't happen." Ace said stubbornly. "I_ _ **need**_ _to be ready. I…"_ I have to be strong enough to protect everyone this time. I can't fail again.

_Marco's hooded eyes narrowed slightly. "Alright, yoi. Since you're so serious about this… how about I show you a few of my moves?"_

_Ace's grey eyes widened. "R-Really?"_

" _Of course, yoi." The Phoenix said with a small smile. "But you're going to practice them on a dummy, okay? I don't think Jozu wants to be your punching bag."_

" _Definitely not." The Commander grumbled. "Kid probably left some bruises even with my powers."_

" _Sorry." Ace apologized. "You told me not to hold back."_

" _I might have to rescind that statement." Jozu said. "You're strong, kid. And with Marco's help maybe you_ _ **will**_ _beat Admirals and Yonko someday."_

" _He definitely will." Marco said firmly._

_Some of the tension in Ace's chest eased and he gave his brother a toothy grin. "Thanks, Marco."_

OPOPOPOPOP

Whitebeard was on the deck with many of his children. It was a beautiful day, with a nice breeze and no clouds in the sky. That being said, the Yonko's presence was hard to miss. He was out in the open, where everyone nearby could see him. Good. That was exactly what Ace needed.

He did not give himself time to hesitate. He did not give in to second thoughts. He knew what he needed to do.

_This is to save them._

Ace blocked off his memories.

He smothered his guilt.

He crushed his hesitation.

He hardened his heart.

And he attacked.

A few of the lower-ranked pirates jumped as Fire Fist seemingly materialized out of nowhere. The Commanders merely sighed and moved between them and the teen's target, ready to redirect any attacks that came their way. They were inconsequential. All of them. Because of their arrogance, they would not interfere.

All that mattered was the target.

Using his flames, Ace propelled his body sideways, avoiding his enemy's first strike. He wasn't durable enough to weather the blow so he had to be careful, avoid and dodge. His fiery fist was caught by a large palm but he launched himself off his foe before he could get batted away. He landed on the deck and immediately sprang back in, shooting a wall of fire at the Yonko. As his enemy twitched, momentarily blinded, the fire parted and he was there.

He felt the air tremor and turned to flames, the lack of a solid form negating the intensity of the shaking slightly. It ceased and pulled himself together, dodging the swipe of a bisento and shooting a plume of flame in his enemy's face.

The air near his head shifted and he forced himself upwards and back, swaying out of the path of the Yonko's fist. He sent a large blast of fire at his enemy, shooting a smaller, hotter, and more intense beam through the first flames, and the Yonko raised his arm on instinct to block his eyes.

_Now!_

Ace twisted in midair, flipping so his feet were over his head. He brought his leg down with all his strength, bashing his enemy's arm out of the way and leaving him exposed. Fire Fist lunged, arm and dagger turned black with Haki. His enemy was startled, reeling,  _vulnerable_ , his defenses down and his jugular just exposed enough for him to reach.

Even a Yonko couldn't survive having their throat slit open—

_Oyaji._

Ace jerked his arm and the knife sliced Whitebeard's cheek instead of his jugular. A fist slammed into the Logia's gut an instant later. He hit the deck hard, rolling a few times before coming to a halt. Ace slowly got to his hands and knees, and— with everyone else— watched the thin line of blood that dripped down Whitebeard's face.

_I… hurt him?_

In a millisecond, the Whitebeard Pirates became a mob. They rushed Ace, many shouting or screaming oaths, but the teen did not have the state of mind to defend himself, lost in his shock. Bodies hit him, forcing him back down to the deck, and he curled up on instinct, protecting his head.

His powers fought to get to the surface but he resisted them. He hurt Oyaji. He could not bear to hurt anyone else. Something clicked around his ankle and he felt the draining sensation from seastone. Good. He would not lose control and burn anyone. Then hands grabbed Ace. They pulled at his arms and his legs and his hair and his clothes, grasping his wrists and ankles and neck as enraged bellows reached his ears.

"He hurt Oyaji!"

"Fucking bastard!"

"You think you can get away with this you  _piece of shit!_ "

Ace flinched as something struck him in the abdomen. He could not tell if the hit was accidental or not, a result of many moving bodies or done with malicious intent. The latter soon proved to be the case as more blows rained down on him, the hands on his body tightening as they attempted to expose him to the mob.

The first sliver of fear worked its way past Ace's shock, horrific memories prodding at his conscious mind. How many time had he been beaten to death by a mob of pirates, Marines, civilians, or others that usually had just discovered his parentage?

But that was not what happened here. He'd brought this upon himself. He injured Whitebeard and got his crew to hate him. Now he just needed to survive the aftermath. Ace kept silent, refusing to voice the slightest grunt as he was yanked about and pummeled by countless hands and feet.

How long had it been? A minute? A few seconds? No one had stepped in to stop the assault and he might have spotted Haruta among the swarm. That meant he succeeded right? They despised him. It was worth it then. That was what he wanted.

_This is what I want…_

A sharp impact on his head made Ace's vision swim. Other than trying to pull his limbs back towards his body he remained limp and still as the Whitebeard Pirates battered him. Slowly he registered a voice screaming above the roars of the mob.

"Stop! Stop it!  _What the hell are you doing?!_ "

Thatch? That was Thatch. Of course it was him. He was too kind and forgiving. Did Thatch believe Ace was innocent? Didn't he know Ace deserved this…? Everyone else did for they continued their assault.

Then, without warning, the air cracked.

The force of Whitebeard's attack sent pirates flying everywhere, leaving only Ace on the deck. As he carefully arranged his aching limbs so they could not so easily be grabbed again, the teen had to marvel at the Yonko's precision with his powers. He felt a shadow fall over him and opened one eye. The other was swollen shut and if he thought about it, he could not recall closing the first…

He felt tired. And kind of weak. Weird.

A large hand lifted him and he winced as pain flared through his battered body. This pain was nothing. He'd been through far worse. He was just being a baby again. Ace was vaguely aware of voices and being lowered, then lifted again by four smaller hands. Were they helping him or throwing him into the sea?

_I can't die here._

Ace jerked his limbs, breaking free and falling to the deck. He got onto his feet, breathing heavily, and saw Bay and Thatch standing close to him. They must have been trying to take him to the infirmary.

_I can't let them. (I deserve to suffer.) I mistrust them, remember? (and now they mistrust me.) This is what I wanted. (It hurts.)_

"Don't touch me!" he wheezed.

It sounded much less threatening and much more hysterical than he intended due to the breathiness of his voice but it was fine. He was  _fine_. Keeping his back away from the pirates, he stumbled into the doorway leading below deck before flee—  _running_  to his room. He shut his door with shaking hands and collapsed onto his bed, wincing as his many injuries flared with pain.

_This is what I wanted_ , he reminded himself.  _Hurting Whitebeard will definitely make a majority of them hate me again._

And they did hate him. Enough that they had attacked him like an angry mob. Ace shivered and curled up on his bed, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Their furious faces plagued his thoughts every time he closed his eyes, implanted in his memories along with so many other things he wished he could forget.

_This is what I wanted._

He felt so tired.

_This is what I wanted._

Everything hurt.

_This is what I wanted._

He couldn't bear to think about what had almost happened.

_This is what I wanted._

He wanted to sleep.

_This is what I wanted._

He did.

OPOPOPOPOP

Marco wordlessly took in the scene around him, too stunned to move. He stared at the doorway Fire Fist had vanished into with near-befuddlement, unable to comprehend everything that had just happened. Around him, pirates were picking themselves off the ground, more startled than hurt, but none dared to voice their displeasure.

Whitebeard was silent.

He watched Fire Fist stumble away.

He watched his children regain their footing.

He watched as Bay and Thatch hurried after him, presumably to make sure the brat did not fall unconscious anywhere.

He closed his eyes.

His bisento slammed into the deck, making it shake ominously. "This needs to  _stop_."

Marco's heart became a hummingbird, frantically beating its wings in his chest. Oyaji was angry. Though 'angry' failed to give proper weight to the emotion the Yonko was displaying. His expression was neutral, his hand clenched around his weapon rather lightly, but his yellow eyes burned like flames. He was not merely 'angry'.

The Yonko was  _furious_.

Whitebeard's gaze swept over them all with the weight of an avalanche, pressing down on them and daring any to try to stand against his anger. "Did I teach you all to be so  _brutish_  that you would beat an enemy while he was down?" he asked.

"He  _injured_  you!" Haruta blurted in a snarl. "We had to protect you. He could have killed you, Oyaji!"

Something in Marco's chest constricted.

Yellow eyes zeroed in on the shorter Commander. "A two-inch cut is little to be concerned with, and certainly did not require such disproportionate retribution. Your reaction was understandable, but in this circumstance, was  _abhorrent_. I intend for that boy to  _become your brother_  someday, and he has proven that he may be willing through his protection of Thatch. Yet very few of you seem to remember that. Instead of trying to welcome him, you belittled him, mocked him, and  _ganged up on him_  like a pack of rabid wolves and tried to  _tear him apart_."

Even though he did not take part in the assault on Fire Fist, Marco could not hold his father's gaze.

"That was  _not_  an instinct to defend me." Whitebeard continued coldly. "That was a malicious mob mentality with an 'outsider' as the target, and one I will not tolerate. Here and now, you acted as if an Admiral stabbed me through the heart, when that is far from the case. Ace is  _not_  our enemy. He is a hurting, desperate teen who has great potential. He could be a great addition to our forces, but if so many of you fail to see the good inside him and only see him as a  _nuisance_  or  _threat_ , then perhaps he  _is_  better off without us."

The Yonko was not giving up on Fire Fist. He was losing faith in his children's ability to be accepting and tolerant, and pondering that maybe the— mostly undeserving— target of their ire should be kept away from them. Marco could not help but feel responsible. Maybe if he had been less condescending and dismissive of the teen from the beginning, the others would have followed his example?

"He still tried to kill you." Haruta piped up, either bravely or foolishly. The short Commander's jaw was set in a stubborn line and his eyes glowed with anger. "Did you  _see_  what he did? He was using Haki and his fruit like a pro. He's not a stupid kid. He's been taught to kill. He's  _dangerous_."

One of the many vague thoughts that had been bothering Marco was finally given words. He went over the battle he had witnessed again, noting the precision and strength of Fire Fist's attacks, and uncomfortably noted how much more skilled the brat was than he had seemed. His attacks were too well thought out to come from luck or desperation. What had changed to make Fire Fist show such strength rather than continue to hide it like he had?

And where did he learn such things?

"Fire Fist never intended to kill Oyaji." Izo said.

The gathered pirates looked at him.

"What do you mean?" Haruta asked cautiously.

The okama idly fiddled with a loose lock of hair. "During that last strike, he could have stabbed Oyaji in the throat. When he saw where he was aiming, he intentionally shifted his trajectory so the dagger sliced his cheek. He had a clear shot but he didn't take it."

Izo crossed his arms and eyed them all neutrally, content to let them draw their own conclusions from his observations. Marco's mind jumped to one such conclusion that made as much sense as it did not. Could the brat only be trying to kill Oyaji because it was expected of him, not because he wanted to? It was yet another mystery to add to the complex ball of knotted strings that was Fire Fist Portgas D. Ace. Why couldn't the teen be simple or just explain himself and spare Marco a headache?

_But if he did, we wouldn't be having this problem._

"Further proving my point." Oyaji said, calmer now that his children were  _thinking_. "Your actions were unwarranted. Those of you that took part in the assault will be given punishments by your Commander. The Commanders that took part will be disciplined by me."

Haruta, Rakuyo, and Vista shuffled forward obediently, expressions ranging from guilty to sullen. Marco gathered up his Division members and those from the Commander-less Second Division, still in a bit of a daze. Things had gone from calm to turbulent so quickly and he did not want to think. A part of him wanted to run to Fire Fist to make sure the brat was okay, while another wanted to slap him upside the head for pulling what he did.

But then again… attacking Oyaji was what Fire Fist  _always_  did. The only difference was he had never managed to injure the Yonko before, or even come close to doing so. Maybe that was a reason why the Whitebeard Pirates reacted so violently. None of them believed that Fire Fist was capable of hurting their Captain.

But he did. He used his powers to his advantage, avoiding devastating blows like someone used to fighting for their life, and used all the force he could muster to shove Whitebeard's arm aside and leave him open for attack—

_That was my move._

The war between sympathy and suspicion ended in a snap, with wariness coming to the forefront of Marco's thoughts, clearing his confused mind. He went over the battle again with new eyes, taking note of every tactic and technique, and he found himself recognizing a few of the move sets used by the teen as his own. Specifically, they were those Marco used against larger, stronger opponents.

How the Hell did Fire Fist know them?

Marco had not sparred with any of his larger brothers since Fire Fist came on the ship. Nor did he use those techniques during battle recently. It was impossible for the Logia to have observed, learned, and copied his tactics after he came onto the Moby Dick. That left many possibilities that were… less than desirable.

_Someone else watched me and somehow taught him them. He's seen me fight somewhere before. Or… he's a spy._

Marco did not know the truth.

He  _would_  find out.

Despite all his questions and confliction, one thing was for certain.

Fire Fist was keeping dangerous secrets, and Marco would not trust him again any time soon.


	6. Roommates

_Ace stumbled out of his room and down the dark hallway, barely avoiding bumping into the walls as he went. His breathing was sharp and far too loud so he tried to silence it, holding his breath until the dizziness forced him to take new air into his lungs. His hands twitched towards his chest and he hunched his shoulders, pressing a palm against the spot where he had been stabbed._

_There was no wound. Of course there was not. It had killed him and he was back at the beginning again. But it was okay. Sure, he had failed **again** , but now he had a new chance. He just needed to calm down. He was not in battle anymore, watching everyone die._

_Ace stopped in front of a closed door, knocking and praying that the person inside would answer. He was being stupid. He knew he was. He could ruin everything if he acted oddly. But maybe he had awoken in the right period where this would not be weird. He just needed to calm down was all. He just needed—_

_Marco opened the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes, though he grew far more alert when he saw who was visiting him at this hour. "Ace?"_

_The teen swallowed roughly, eyes dropping to the floor so he did not stare at the Phoenix's chest. "I-I…"_

_Marco opened the door wider. "How about you come in?"_

_Ace did so, legs giving out just as he made it to the chair beside the desk. Marco settled on the bed, hands clasped and expression calm. He did not seem too surprised that the teen was here so that had to mean he had already opened up to the crew, right?_

" _Is there something you'd like to talk about, yoi?" the Phoenix asked after a pause._

" _I— Um…"_

_Ace's eyes flicked back to Marco's not-wounded chest— but he **was** wounded, blood and gore splattered over once-tan skin and a gaping hole where his heart once resided. The teen gasped, flinching as his eyes squeezed shut, and recoiled as a hand landed on his arm._

_He threw himself backwards, making the chair crash to the ground and scrambled away from Blackbeard— but it was not Teach. Marco crouched a few feet in front of him, hand still outstretched and blue eyes wide. Ace could not stop himself from shaking, his breathing coming in hiccupping gasps as he was caught between crying and screaming._

" _You died." He blurted, his voice wheezing and hoarse. "You all_ _ **died**_ _."_

_Arms wrapped around him— safe and warm— and he did not struggle as Marco pulled the hysterical teen to him. It was Marco. His big brother. Marco was alive and fine and safe and it was_ _ **fine** _ _—_

" _It was just a nightmare." Marco soothed. "You're safe. I'm safe. We're all alive, yoi."_

_Ace shut his mouth to keep himself from saying the truth and leaned his head against his brother's chest, listening to his heartbeat. His heart was_   _ **there**_ _, where it should be, not torn out and silent in Blackbeard's hand. His failure to save his family_ _ **again** __made Ace shake harder, feeling like he was being strangled by icy hands, but words somehow made it past his clogged throat._

" _You can't die. You_ _ **can't**_ _." he begged._

" _I won't." Marco soothed, unaware of the weight of his words. "I promise that I won't Ace."_

_Ace tried to believe him. He did believe him. But it was becoming harder not to see a lie._

_He went with Marco to make some soothing tea. He joined the crew the next morning. He became the Second Division Commander within a year. The Phoenix kept his promise…_

… _for five years._

_Marco died (again)._

_Thatch died (again)._

_Oyaji died (again)._

_Luffy died (again)._

_Everyone died (again)._

_Ace died (again)._

_He woke up (again)._

_And something inside Ace began to crack._

OPOPOPOPOP

Ace was less surprised then he should be to wake up in the infirmary again. He did not need to open his eyes to recognize the scent of that cursed room or the feel of the rough sheets beneath his fingers. Satisfied with his knowledge of his current location, the teen gave himself a moment to breathe. He winced with every inhale and exhale, the breaths pressing his ribs against the bandages around them. He did not recall having quite so many wrappings before falling unconscious but seeing as how he was in the infirmary it was to be expected—

_What if I died again when I fell asleep?_

Ace's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp, causing the person sitting at his bedside to yelp and fall out of their chair. The Logia watched Thatch get into a more dignified sitting position, struggling to keep his face neutral as his heart leapt into his throat. He needed to calm down. He needed to think, not panic.

_Okay, the extra wounds could be from the Whitebeard Pirates. But they could also be from Whitebeard's defense in a different loop. Shit. My back. How does my back feel?_

He focused on the slight burning sensation that started at his shoulder, trying to identify it. It did not work. Everything just stung almost equally.

_Shit shit shit shit_   _ **shit**_ _._

Ace twisted, yanking at the bandages and trying to see if he had a stitched wound. That would tell him where he was. That would tell him  _when_  he was. The injury had to be there. It  _had_  to be.

"What are you  _doing?!_ "

Bay appeared out of nowhere, grabbing his hand and tearing it away from the wrappings before he could peel them off his skin. Ace flinched, yanking his hand out of her grasp, but his heartbeat slowed at the sight of her. Bay was here. He was still in the same timeline.

_Thank the Gods._

"Don't touch those." Bay was scolding him, her words barely registering through his relief. "I don't want you scratching and getting an infection."

Ace could not speak.  _I'm still in the same timeline. I didn't reset again. Thank the Gods._

"Hey, doc." Thatch groaned from his position on the ground. "Got any concern for me?"

"No you big baby." Bay said unsympathetically, prodding him with her foot. "Get up. You're in my way."

"Mean." Thatch complained, but complied. He dusted himself off and smiled at Ace. "Are you okay, kid? You gave us quite the scare earlier. We found you passed out in your room."

Ace stared at the chef in silence, slowly recalling what had led up to said passing out.  _The Whitebeard Pirates attacked me because I injured their Captain. I injured Oyaji._

Oh, look. The panic was back. Ace struggled to keep it from washing through his body, focusing on breathing even as it tried to clog up his throat. He had done one of the many things he promised himself he would not. He hurt a family member.

_Should I reset?_

"Ace." Bay snapped her fingers under his nose, leaning so their faces were level. "Ace, can you hear me?"

Ace stared at her, thoughts continuing to whirl.  _No, I shouldn't. Whitebeard will be fine. It was just a scratch. It got the result I wanted. But I didn't intend to hurt him. I just wanted to show I was dangerous. It worked, but what if the others don't let it go? What if they try to kill me to protect Whitebeard?_

" _Ace!_ " He blinked, meeting Bay's concerned eyes. "Breathe with me." She commanded. "In and out."

Was he hyperventilating? He was. Huh. He hadn't noticed. No wonder everything was hazy. It had been a while since he freaked out this way so no wonder he had not recognized it  _hahaha_ _ **hahahaHAHA**_ —

Ace inhaled sharply and held his breath, only releasing it when his vision began to darken. He should know better than to let this get to him. He needed to  _think_ , not freak out. Whitebeard. Was. Fine. There was no need to overreact about it. The injury was not part of the plan, but it got the result he wanted. That was good. Things were  _fine_. His breathing slowed and his sight cleared, and he instinctively leaned away from Bay's far-too-close face.

She backed out of his personal space. "Are you with me now?"

Bay was using that gentle, careful voice again that implied she thought he was  _fragile_. Ace did not have the energy to be angry about it. He did not even have the energy to respond. He had just woken, but he already wanted to go back to sleep and escape everything for a couple hours. Maybe then he could calm down and think about recent events rationally instead of feeling the stupid urge to break down.

Attacking Whitebeard was part of the plan to turn a majority of the Whitebeards against him. It succeeded.

So why did he feel like such a failure?

Bay was talking but Ace could not hear her. Her expression and the buzzing tone of her voice suggested sympathy, however, and the teen felt as if it was pushing him down into quicksand. He couldn't handle it. If he tried he'd either crumble or snap. It had happened before. He could feel the signs.

He had to get out of here.

Now.

Ace carelessly yanked the wires from his arm and got up, ignoring Bay as she tried to stop him. He may have shoved past the doctor and Thatch but if he did he did not feel their touch. He prayed they wouldn't grab him. He wouldn't react well if they did. Thankfully neither touched him and he was free to leave unhindered, stumbling to the solitude of his room where no one would witness his mounting outburst.

Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Ace shut the door and sat on his bed. He immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, leaning over and breathing through his nose. Once he was certain he was not going to make noise he lowered his hands to his elbows, gripping them tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

The emotions he had been denying twisted through his veins and consciousness, but he refused to let them manifest as more than a slight tremor. He was being such a drama queen. He got the results he desired. He should be happy. Except he wasn't happy in the least.

_I didn't mean to hurt Oyaji. But that's all I'm doing. I'm hurting almost everyone I loved emotionally. I'm making sure they don't care though. I have to. But… I'm going to end up alone._

He knew that before, but he was just starting to comprehend what that would entail. In all the previous loops, Ace had people to turn to when things became too much for him, even if he could not tell them the full truth. This time, he would have no one. That was the purpose of it, of course.

_I didn't realize I relied on others so much. When did I become so dependent?_

He tried to feel indignant about it. Instead he just felt heartbroken.

_Come on, idiot. I_   _ **have**  _ _to be alone. They'll die if I stay, and there's no way in hell I'm making bonds with strangers._

He did not want to add more people to the list of that he would fail to protect. The thought alone made Ace burst into off-putting giggles that would send a majority of people who heard them running for the hills. It appeared he was letting the cracks out again. The teen could not bring himself to care. As long as he did not completely lose his cool and explode and go on a rampage it would be  _fine_.

The knock on the door startled him enough that he was pointing a fiery fist at it before his mind caught up to his body. Ace forced his hand to lower, flexing his fingers and schooling his expression as best he could. A sneer was acceptable. A psychotic grin was not.

Struggling to hold the pieces together, Ace opened the door with a snarl.

OPOPOPOPOP

" _What?_ "

To say Fire Fist was unhappy to see Marco would be an understatement. The brat looked ready to reach out and strangle him for interrupting his solitude, a wild look in his eyes that made the Phoenix just a little unsettled. If he did not know better, he'd swear the Logia was legitimately ready to kill. Marco was above being threatened by such a glare— and it wasn't like the brat was  _that_  dangerous— however, and casually leaned against the brat's door.

"Pack up your stuff. You're sleeping in my room from now on."

Fire Fist stared at him, hostility vanishing in favor of childish bewilderment. "What?"

"You're sleeping in my room from now on." Marco repeated firmly. "The others will bring your bed in."

The brat looked at him like he'd just murdered his pet. No, that was not completely true. There was no anger or desire for revenge there like an adult could have. Instead he looked impossibly young, like a boy who could not comprehend how someone could do something so needlessly cruel to them. It almost made Marco want to pass off his statement as a joke. Almost.

"But… this is my room." Fire Fist said eventually.

"Not anymore, yoi." Marco said bluntly. "And it's supposed to be a storage closet."

The Logia's jaw clicked shut. The Phoenix did not quite understand it. Fire Fist had not been here long enough to get attached to the room, though he supposed that when someone had nothing, the one thing they could cautiously call their own became precious. But the room was not Fire Fist's. It belonged to the Whitebeard Pirates. Marco might have felt bad for reminding him of that, but he was not about to rescind his decision. He needed to keep an eye on the brat, for the brat's sake and the Whitebeard's.

The Phoenix had to wonder if Fire Fist realized how angry many in the Yonko's crew was at him for injuring their Captain. If he had been an enemy, he would be dead. Because he technically wasn't pirates were left to stew in their discontent. It hurt to think that the brat was no longer safe in a room on his own, but Marco and Whitebeard could not control everyone's actions. Though in truth, the Phoenix could not claim the decision was fully to protect Fire Fist. There might be just a bit of punishment for his bratty actions in there as well.

Fire Fist wrapped his arms around his stomach in what might have been him simply crossing them if not for the way his hands pressed against his sides. It almost looked like he was digging his nails into his skin intentionally. His expression was shadowed by his hat, but Marco swore he spotted an unnerving grin among the shifting emotions on his face. It was gone so quick the Phoenix must have imagined it and he had to roll his eyes at himself.

_Just because I'm suspicious of the brat doesn't mean he's secretly unstable._

"Fine." Fire Fist said shortly. "Just give me a sec."

Fire Fist calmly lifted the loose floorboard and revealed the food stored there. Almost deliberately, he slowly loaded it into a bag and hefted it over his shoulder without bothering to hide anything from the Phoenix. Marco's eyebrows crept upward at the unapologetic audacity of it.

"You stole that, yoi." He said darkly.

"You didn't even notice." The brat shot back. "Lead the way to my new cell, bird-brain."

It was a good thing Marco did not easily give in to the desire to punch someone in the face. The entire way to his room, Fire Fist glared at his new roommate's back with undisguised loathing. Despite the intensity of his glower, Marco did not spontaneously burst into flames even though the brat was fully capable of such a feat.

Once they reached their destination, Marco ushered the Logia in first, shutting the door behind them with a snap. He watched the brat carefully for any signs he was going to start burning something, but instead Fire Fist looked  _bored_ as he scanned the area. He did not marvel at the open space, the wide windows, or even the comfy furniture situated so the sitter could look outside.

"Your bed will go over there, yoi." Marco said, pointing at an empty space by the wall.

"Yay." Fire Fist said flatly. "So when can I expect a knife in the back? I'm busy between two and five but after that I'm free."

The Phoenix felt his eye twitch. "You're still on about that, yoi?"

The brat's head tipped and his grey eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm not stupid. We're roommates now because you want to watch over me. So who did I piss off?"

His tone was challenging, eager for something else to rub in Marco's face about the ulterior motives of the Whitebeards. The Phoenix did not take the bait.

"It's more like I'm protecting them from you." he claimed, and it might be partially true.

There it was. Another twitch in his expression that showed something dark underneath. "Good to see you're learning."

What the  _actual_  hell?

Fire Fist did not give him time to dwell on his response, instead kicking a chair leg idly. "Aren't you worried I'll mess with your stuff while you're gone? You don't exactly have a way other than beating me up to keep me in line if I'm a bad child."

Why did the brat's mind always jump to that when he thought of punishment? New suspicions were creeping in to join the old and Marco's stomach clenched uncomfortably.

_What kind of childhood did the brat have?_

The Phoenix pushed those thoughts aside to be considered later. "I don't know where you got the idea that we're savage brutes—"

" _Maybe_  from the time you nearly beat me to death." Fire Fist said mock-thoughtfully.

Marco's temper flared. "You brought it upon yourself, idiot." He snapped.

He immediately wanted to take the words back, but the smile the brat adopted trapped the apology in his throat.

"You don't need to tell me." he said, still smiling. "Can you please just throw me off the ship already? In a boat or into the sea. I'm not picky. It's obvious you don't like me."

His tone was not hopeful. If Marco had to describe it, he would call it 'icily chipper' or maybe 'rather disturbing'.

_Is that what you want?_  Marco silently asked. "No. You're staying, yoi."

"Shoulda known." The brat said, sarcastic words not matching his still-smiling face.

He waltzed through the room like he owned it, dropping his bag of stolen food, and flopped down on Marco's bed. A bed which he  _knew_  was the Phoenix's. The brat then smiled at him with a shit-eating expression that seemed to scream 'think I'm more trouble than I'm worth yet?' Why yes, Marco was indeed starting to think that just a little bit but Fire Fist's situation was out of his hands. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm himself before he could say something cutting, feeling his headache double.

_One minute I feel sorry for the brat, the next I can't help but wonder if he's a threat, and the next I want to punch him in the face. Is it intentional? If so, what is the_ _ **point** _ _of this? To mess with us?_

Marco had half a mind to demand answers from Fire Fist, but any plans to do so were snuffed when he looked at the brat again. He was already asleep. On Marco's bed. The Phoenix did not know how to feel about that. Or about anything to do with the brat that was wreaking havoc in their lives.

In the end, he merely shook his head and left Fire Fist alone, heading out to get a few crewmates to move the brat's bed to his new room. If this interaction told him anything, it was that the foreseeable future was going to be absolute Hell for the poor Phoenix.

Maybe Whitebeard was wrong about the kid.

Maybe he did not belong.

OPOPOPOPOP

Hours later, Marco snapped awake. For a moment, he could not pinpoint what had drawn him from sleep. No sudden lights had shone through the windows to startle him, and the only sounds he could hear were the soft hushing of the waves as they beat against the ship and whispers of wind. Perhaps it was the bed that woke him, the slight unfamiliar contours and hardness of the mattress just different enough to subconsciously bother him.

Even in his slightly sleep-addled state, Marco could hear Thatch teasing him about being an old man who could not adjust to changes and grumbled at himself. Honestly, just because the mattress was different and the scent of the sheets was off, his body would refuse to rest? Ridiculous.

The Phoenix rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. At least it was his. After getting the other bed in the room— a process Fire Fist slept or pretended to sleep through— he had seen the brat's head was off the pillow and had quickly stolen it back, giving the idiot back his own.

Marco glanced at the brat and saw he was had the pillow tucked under his cheek, clinging to it in a way that was almost adorable. The Phoenix would be murdered a thousand times over if Fire Fist ever found about those thoughts, but it was easy to forget them when he recalled the brat's attitude.

_I'll handle it in the morning_ , Marco thought tiredly, trying to get his brain to shut up so he could sleep.

It seemed to work for he could feel himself getting drowsy, eyelids growing heavy as he crept back into the world of dreams. Just as the murmur of the waves and rocking of the ship were about to lull him back into dreamless sleep, there was a sound.

A sob?

The Phoenix carefully sat up and looked at his roommate's bed again, both surprised and not surprised to see Fire Fist curled up and shaking on the bed. Grey eyes were open but glazed with sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling he could not see. As Marco watched, the brat uncurled, lying flat on his back as his expression grew pained. His mouth moved and the Phoenix deciphered the soundless words on his lips.

" _Escape escape escape escape…"_

Marco got up and silently approached Fire Fist, who did not acknowledge his presence. He kept staring at the ceiling, mumbling the same words again and again. Was he having a nightmare? Or was it more extreme than that? What did Bay call it? A night terror? The Phoenix was uncertain of the diagnosis but recalled that touching the person to try to wake them was usually a bad idea. Instead he hovered close— but did not lean over— Fire Fist.

"Fire brat." He growled.

No response came from the brat.

"Portgas."

Nothing.

" _Ace,_ yoi."

Grey eyes snapped to him, still dull and unaware. They widened with terror and faster than a blink Fire Fist was out of bed, lunging for him. Marco did not have time to defend himself before he was tackled to the ground, the back of his head smacking on the wood and sending spots dancing across his vision.

By the time Marco's head cleared and he had the mind to try to push Fire Fist off, he realized the brat was no longer 'attacking' him. Instead the Logia had dragged him behind a tipped-over chair, with the brat crouched over him like he was trying to shield Marco's body with his own. Grey eyes darted about frantically.

" _Have to get out._ " Marco heard him wheeze. " _Have to be quiet. They're looking for us. Shhhh_."

His voice was low and raspy, almost ghostly, like he was whispering to the Phoenix from beyond the grave. Fire Fist put a hand over Marco's mouth, eyes still searching for danger, body still poised to protect him from a blow. He flinched, focusing on things the Phoenix could not see, and Marco was honestly surprised fire was not being thrown around yet. The little bit of light in Fire Fist's grey eyes fled and he looked directly at Marco.

" _They're here_."

Never before had two words terrified Marco so much. Through the fog or the nightmare or whatever the  _hell_  Fire Fist was seeing, he must have seen the Phoenix's alarm for he gave a strained, reassuring smile.

" _It'll be okay. You'll get out. They won't get you. You'll be fine_." Again he flinched, curling around Marco. " _Don't move_.  _Quiet._ "

He laid his head down, shivering slightly, and Marco saw his eyes follow a specific path, like he was watching someone walk by. Because of their positions, the Phoenix could feel Fire Fist's chest heaving like he was resisting his body's desire to panic. There was no denying the desperation in his grey eyes, and Marco finally found his voice.

"Ace, you're dreaming. You need to wake up."

The kid hardly glanced at him, eyes locked on an empty corner. His face drained of color and he began to claw at his wrist like he was trying to get something off of it. The only things that fell to the ground were his bracelet and droplets of blood. Marco's own heart began to pound at the sight.

"Ace, you're not…" He could not begin to guess where the kid thought they were. "…there. You're on the Moby Dick. You're safe, yoi."

Fire Fist looked at him, eyes still glassy. " _I'm back home? We made it?_ " he asked hoarsely.

At first Marco thought he meant the Moby Dick, but realized the thought was impossible. Fire Fist had no reason to see the ship as a home, and had made it perfectly clear he never wanted to. The kid must have equated 'safe' to 'home'. "Yes. You're home, yoi. We made it home."

Fire Fist got off him without a word and stumbled back to the Phoenix's bed, curling up under the blankets. Marco did not move from the floor until he heard the kid's breathing even out. He carefully sat up, rubbing his aching shoulder, and looked to see Fire Fist's eyes were closed and his expression was slack.

If not for the tipped-over chair, discarded bracelet, and near-unnoticeable drops of blood, the Phoenix could almost believe he had imagined the entire, terrifying encounter. But he had not. It had happened. Slowly, his mind finished processing the event and came to a conclusion.

_What… the…_   _ **hell?** _

That was not so much a conclusion as an overarching question but Marco would take it. It was better than trying to deal with the cascade of questions and mangled pieces that was the mystery of Portgas D. Ace. What the hell could have happened to him to make him act like  _this_?

Marco had a feeling Ace would not remember their late-night encounter. The Phoenix promised  _he_  would. But remembering was useless if he did not have answers about  _why_ …?

Marco could have slapped himself. He was an idiot. They  _all_  were. Here they were, acting like Ace was an isolated unknown, when he was far from a recluse in the past. He was a  _captain_  before this. He had a  _crew_.

The Spade Pirates might not have all the answers, but they just might have some of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a bit early because I likely won't have time tomorrow.
> 
> See you next Tuesday!


	7. A Moment of Weakness

When Ace woke up, he did not feel well-rested. He was certain he had fallen asleep but it felt like he had not closed his eyes for a single minute. Instead his head pounded, his body ached, his wrist stung for some reason, and the mere thought of getting out from beneath the covers was exhausting. He probably should not press his luck, however. Marco could not be pleased that he was sleeping in the man's bed.

Ace would like to claim that it was a stroke of brilliance that he decided to take a snooze and irritate the Phoenix, but in truth he had wanted to check out of reality before his thoughts and emotions caught up to him.

Ace should have suspected his new arrangements, really. The Whitebeards could not discipline him through menial labor or chores so they had to do  _something_  to punish him for his attitude. Ace did not blame them. He should not blame them because they had no way of comprehending just what his old room meant to him. He usually woke up there after each reset. It was the one place that he could reliably be alone if he needed to calm down or freak out. But now his room— the last sanctuary he had— had been taken from him.

The urge to abandon this timeline was stronger than ever.

_No. This is what I want. They hate and mistrust me now. I-I'm closer than ever to making them let me go. If I reset, I'll have to start from scratch again. It's not that big of a deal. I would have had to leave it anyway in…_  He did some mental calculations.  _…about a week and a half if we're on schedule._

A week and a half to make the Whitebeards want him off their ship.

_No problem._

Ace sat up and stretched, planting his feet on the wooden floor. Marco was already gone. Apparently he trusted Ace enough to leave him alone in his room. Or he thought the teen would not dare to torch any of the important-looking paperwork on his desk.

_Nah. I'm not_ _ **that**_ _cruel. Though Marco might actually thank me… No he wouldn't. Thatch definitely would—_ Ace cut off those kinds of thoughts before they could continue.  _Not my family. Really not my family. A majority of them hate me now._ His throat tightened.  _This is what I want._

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling shakily walking over to his actual bed. Marco had been kind enough to make it— Or he had simply done so out of habit. Either way, the sheets were neatly tucked and the pillow he recognized as Marco's was fluffed.

Ace unmade the bed and threw the pillow carelessly on the floor.  _If he thinks rooming with me is going to be a bonding experience, he's sorely mistaken._ He looked at the Phoenix's bed, considering the twisted blankets on top.  _Is it too childish to throw everything on the floor? I want him to dislike me, not think I'm a petulant child. Though maybe acting like one will lead to the other…?_

Something under the bed moved. Ace twitched but recognized the white lump that emerged before he could attack. His breathing and heartbeat had already increased, however, and he had to sit down as the adrenaline flew into and fled his veins in an instant, leaving him feeling dizzy and slightly ill. The thing that had scared him whined lowly and approached. Honestly, Ace should not have been surprised. Why wouldn't Stefan— the Whitebeards' dog— be here?

Except he should  _not_  be.

Ace paused and looked from the dog to the closed door suspiciously. He knew from previous loops that Stefan was always kept in Rakuyo's quarters for the first part of his stay on the Moby Dick. If he had to guess, it was likely to keep their explosion-and-fire-prone 'guest' away from him until they were surer about the type of person he was. But the accommodations for lower-ranked pirates were in a completely different part of the ship. Even if Stefan got here without anyone stopping him, he could not open doors by himself…

…Which meant someone had to have intentionally led Stefan here and let him into the room. Ace looked down at the dog, who opened his mouth, tongue lolling dopily.

"Who put you up to this?" he muttered suspiciously.

Stefan's ears twitched and his head tipped curiously. He got up and trotted over to Ace, tail wagging. The teen scowled at him.

"Go away." Ace said flatly.

Stefan ignored him and laid his head on the teen's leg.

Ace twitched. "I know what you're trying to do." He informed the canine. "It isn't going to work."

Stefan stared at him with big eyes.

Ace sighed. "Dumb dog."

He refused to pet the canine but did not have the heart to shove him away. Stefan seemed content with that arrangement and merely kept his head on his thigh, tail wagging. Ace tried to get annoyed enough to be a cruel bastard and shout for someone to get the dog away from him but could not do it. Instead he stayed absolutely still, lips pressed together and fists clenched at his sides. Stefan gave a low whine and climbed onto the bed, pressing himself into Ace's side and nuzzling him. The teen took a deep breath and exhaled shakily.

"Stop that." He whispered. "I'm scary and mean.  _Go away_. Shoo."

Stefan ignored him.

"Stupid mutt." Ace muttered but there was no fire in his tone.

He glanced around the empty room uncomfortably, ready to jump away the moment someone approached. He'd sneer and scoff and call Stefan a stupid mangy mutt and would make whoever saw him add 'animal-hating bastard' to their lists of things they disliked about him.

_I don't want to do— I have to. Stop it._

Ace looked around Marco's room and felt his eyes burn. He had better control than this. He couldn't break down because of a stupid room and a dog.

And the fact that he hurt Oyaji.

And the fact that his family hated him.

And that fact that he was a stranger in his own home—

Ace bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed. Stefan noticed and gave a worried whine of response. The dog clambered onto his lap and nudged his cheek, which was thankfully still dry. He was not that much of a crybaby, though he would prefer crying to going on a mindless rampage or clawing at his own skin in the hopes that everything would end.

As Stefan gently butted him with his head, Ace looked around self-consciously.

_Just a few seconds…_

It wasn't like anyone would see.

Ace slowly hugged the dog and buried his head in his soft fur. Stefan happily accepted his embrace, prodding his forehead with his cold nose and making soft little yips. Safe in the knowledge that no one was around to witness it, Ace let his expression crumple, but still refused to let himself cry.

"I want my family back." He told the dog in a whisper.

Almost like he saw his pain, Stefan planted his chin atop the teen's head and nuzzled him, giving just a few seconds of genuine companionship. Then Ace shuddered and pulled away, rubbing his still-dry eyes furiously.

"I can do this." He uttered quietly. "They won't die for me like the others."

OPOPOPOP

Marco slowly backed away from his door, extra careful to keep his footsteps silent. He did not dare to approach the kid and try to comfort him. He knew his presence would be unwelcome. Once he was far enough away, he looked to Namur and Izo, who stood at the end of the hall and awaited the news.

"Well?" the Fishman asked sharply.

"Ace hugged Stefan and talked to him a bit, yoi." Marco admitted. "I can't believe it."

"Some people tend to be more comfortable around animals than other people." Izo commented. He looked to Namur. "Is that what gave you the idea to introduce them?"

"It was Thatch's idea, actually." Namur said. "He's just busy with breakfast and I wanted to get Stefan in there before the kid woke up."

Marco's stomach did a somersault as he recalled the kid's alarming sleeping habits. He shoved his concerns away. Ace had been conscious and coherent long before noticing Stefan and there were not any issues. Fire Fist may be many things, but a hater of canines he was not.

"Now that your little experiment is over—"

"It was Thatch's idea." Namur repeated.

Marco rolled his eyes but corrected himself. "Now that  _Thatch's_  little experiment is over, what next?"

"I say leave them." Izo said bluntly. "The child spends far too much time alone. He needs  _some_  type of companionship."

"And while he's distracted, we can follow your idea." Namur added.

"It's not like Ace ever comes out of his room anyway, yoi." Marco pointed out.

Namur shrugged. "True, but with our luck he'd stumble upon us while we're on the Den Den."

Izo said nothing, instead smiling. When Marco raised an eyebrow at him, the okama's grin widened. "You've been calling him 'Ace' all morning. Did something happen?"

Marco remembered panicked breaths, terrified eyes, and pleas to be quiet so  _they_  would not catch them. "I had a bit of a revelation. I'd like to follow up on it, yoi."

The plan was simple. Talk to a Spade Pirate about their former Captain and try to gather as much information as they could. Marco probably would have thought of such a simple avenue sooner if not for the Spade Pirates being on a completely different ship. Indeed, the Spades were on a smaller ship in Whitebeard's fleet to prevent any misplaced mutinies.

Ace's former crew were happy to become Whitebeard Pirates, but old habits tended to die hard and they seemed to be under the impression that their Captain would soon join them. If they thought that possibility had decreased, Marco honestly did not know what they would do. They were part of the crew but not fully integrated just yet. They were not yet truly loyal brothers and sisters, and were in part still driven by loyalty to their Captain.

A Captain who hardly seemed to remember them.

_Or has too much going on to have time to think of them…_

They ran into Thatch in the hall leading to the communications room. The chef was panting slightly, having evidently raced from the kitchens to get here, though he straightened soon enough. Marco mentally made a note to make sure Thatch put some extra work on stamina training during their next session.

"Hey. Are you done in the kitchens already?" the Phoenix asked.

"Yup." Thatch said briskly. "So how did my idea go?"

"It appears Ace prefers the company of Stefan to us." Marco revealed dryly.

Thatch smiled. "At least he's happy with somebody. So do you have the number?"

Marco gave him a droll stare. "I have them all memorized, yoi. It's part of my job."

Thatch chuckled awkwardly and scratched at his cheek. "I knew that."

The four Commanders crowded into one of the private booths that held Den Den Mushi for less urgent purposes and Marco made the call. After a few rings, someone on the other end answered.

_"Hello?"_

"It's Marco. Can I talk to one of the former Spades Pirates please? Whoever is available."

The Den Den nodded.  _"Gimme a sec."_

There were a couple minutes of silence. Then the Den Den's eyes grew sharp.

_"Hello? Commander Marco, right?"_

"Yes." Marco replied, trying to put a name with the voice. Memory clicked. "Are you Saber?"

_"That's me."_  The cowboy hat-wearing pirate said cheerfully.  _"Whaddaya need?"_

"I have a couple questions about Ace if you don't mind answering them." Marco said carefully.

There was a long pause. Then the Den Den nodded.  _"I might answer 'em. I might not. Shoot."_

Marco had already created a mental list of questions that the man should hopefully be willing to answer. "What is Ace like to you? Personality-wise?"

Izo shot him a confused look but Marco knew what he was doing.

Saber thought about it.  _"Captain's friendly, strong, stubborn, and determined… but also secretive and distant. He doesn't like letting people in, and even when he does, he still has more walls than a Marine base. I think he was burned in the past. More than once. And I don't mean by his powers or somethin'."_

"You think he was betrayed?" Thatch asked sharply.

Marco glared at him but said nothing when he saw the fury burning in the chef's eyes. He was such an overprotective idiot…

_"I dunno. He was hurt by somebody. Maybe lots of somebodies. And lost people too. Dunno how many. Like I said, he's a secretive guy."_  The Den Den's expression grew hesitant.  _"Is he okay?"_

"We… aren't sure." Marco divulged cautiously. "That's why we're calling. To see if you know something that can help."

The snail frowned.  _"Captain's prideful. Based on what yer sayin', he ain't joined you yet. He's still goin' at it with your Captain."_

"He is, yoi." Marco confirmed.

The Den Den's eye stalks swayed slightly.  _"I'm not surprised. I may have just mentioned pride, but it's more than that that keeps Captain going. Ace has… problems with certain pirates from the older eras. And even some pirates from nowadays. The ones who take innocent lives, ya know? The real monsters. When we talked about 'em, his eyes would always go distant and cold. He had the same reaction to Celestial Dragons too now that I think of it."_  Saber sneered.  _"I can guess why he hates those fat bastards but I don't have a clue about the pirates."_

Marco exchanged a glance with his brothers. Thatch had adopted a concerned look, Namur was frowning, while Izo's lips were pursed. He had gotten far more insight into Ace than he had expected, yet still felt like he had hardly learned anything at all.

He sighed. "Is there anything else you can tell us about him?"

_"Nothing other than what he should be the one to tell you."_  Saber said bluntly.  _"You won't get his trust if you learn private stuff behind his back."_

Marco had expected to hit that road block eventually and took it with grace. "I know. Thank you, Saber. We might call again if we have more questions."

_"No problem."_  The man said.  _"Honestly, I hope next time it's the Captain callin' to say he saw sense."_

Marco gave a chuckle that was not really amused. "We'll see, yoi."

He hung up and looked to his companions.

"This is a mess." Thatch said.

"Thank you for your input." Marco said tiredly. "So what did we learn?"

"The kid loathes Celestial Dragons— no surprise— and murderous pirates." Namur summarized. "I'd point out hypocrisy but I know how bad some criminals can be."

"Do you think pirates attacked his home?" Izo asked.

"But then why would he  _become_  a pirate, yoi?" Marco countered.

"Maybe he didn't have another choice?" Thatch ventured.

"Or he valued freedom that much." Namur offered as an alternative.

Izo looked down, fiddling with his kimono. "He wasn't a slave. If he was, he'd have a brand on his back."

"Not all brands are put there. Sometimes they're on the face or shoulder." Namur pointed out.

Marco saw Thatch's jaw tighten.

"The doctors would have seen it and told us, yoi." he interjected quickly.

"Unless that tattoo of his is covering one up." Thatch mumbled.

Marco honestly did not want to consider the possibility. He could not help but link Ace's babbles of escaping last night to the theory, but pushed it away. "It's possible. But what about his hatred for pirates?  _He's_  a pirate, and he must have learned by now that we're not the type to go around demolishing innocent villages."

"Certainly not." Izo agreed with a scoff. "Though it has been rather hard to get him to understand that we  _aren't_  trying to kill him."

Namur stared at the ground, prodding at a hole in the wooden table almost absentmindedly. "Could he mistrust us so much because we're a  _Yonko_  crew?" he asked slowly.

"What are you saying, yoi?" Marco demanded.

The Fishman looked at him. "He kept saying things about Yonko like he'd seen one before Oyaji.  _'He may pretend to be different but Yonko are all the same. They don't accept 'no' as an answer and you either choose to join them or die.'_  That's what he told me when talking about Oyaji."

"The kid hasn't been in the New World that long. I think he first popped up in East Blue." Izo said. "How could he meet a Yonko?" He frowned. "How could he meet a Yonko and  _get away?_ "

"I remember intelligence mentioning he ran into Shanks, but Red Hair is not the type to brutalize rookies like that." Marco said.

"Kaido or Big Mom, then?" Thatch asked faintly.

Marco could understand the chef's discomfort and alarm. None of the Commanders feared the other Yonko, of course, but while Whitebeard and Shanks could almost be considered benevolent, the other two Yonko were monsters to say the least. Islands were destroyed at their whim, their own crew members were rumored to fear for their lives around them, and they would not hesitate to put pressure on an upstart rookie that interested them until he either died or was forced to join their ranks.

Thatch's head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm. "You don't think a Yonko hurt him  _personally_ , do you?"

"I… don't know." Marco said helplessly.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Ace's terrified face as he crouched over Marco, the bruises on his skin still visible even in the near-darkness of night. Had the Whitebeards' attack reminded him of something from his past? Had the crew's actions overall reminded him of another Yonko crew he had encountered, one that had sought to force him into servitude?

The thought made Marco's skin crawl and he had to remind himself that this was all merely speculation and that the kid was still dangerous regardless of his past. Still… If it turned out they were way off-base, he would not mind the million questions that would remain unanswered.

"I hope this is all a misunderstanding." Thatch said eventually. "I'd sleep well tonight if it is."

"Well unless you think asking Ace will give us answers, you'll have to deal with it." Izo said, not completely unsympathetically.

"Maybe we can try to broach the subject carefully?" Namur asked. He glanced sidelong at Thatch. "And tactfully?"

"I'm not that bad." The chef mumbled.

"I think I'll try." Izo said abruptly. "He has had more interactions with you then me."

His words reminded Marco of Bay's. "Maybe Bay could help—"

"I don't think that's a good idea." Thatch interrupted. "Most of their encounters have ended with him running out of the med bay as fast as he can." His skin blanched to a sickly shade of green. "He mentioned being suspicious that we'd drug him. I… I thought he was just being snappish…"

Marco silently cursed his increasing headache, stupid mysteries, and one troublesome teen named Ace. "I'll go check on him and Stefan and try to get the kid out of the room. He can't stay cooped up in there forever."

"I agree. He needs to eat. Unless he's been secretly fishing, it's been  _days_." Thatch said passionately.

Marco cleared his throat. "He… stole some food from the storage and has been eating that."

The chef paused. "What does he have?"

"Meat, some cheese, bread…" Marco frowned. "Maybe a couple preserves? He's probably hidden the bag by now so I don't take it."

Thatch clicked his tongue. "Find it for me when he's out and I'll add some vegetables. Meat and carbs is not a healthy diet!"

Marco felt a smile tug at his lips. Of course the chef was not the least bit upset about the theft. He only cared about the kid's health. It was a pity Ace could not see that…

"Should we tell Oyaji about this?" Namur brought up, gesturing vaguely at the Den Den.

Marco shook his head. "Not until we find definitive proof of…  _anything_. Or the situation gets out of hand. Oyaji will need more than speculation."

The others agreed and they split up, with Marco and Thatch heading towards the Phoenix's room.

" _Soooo_  what are the chances that we'll randomly find a Zoan Devil Fruit that would turn me into an adorable dog?" Thatch asked.

"Slim to none, yoi." Marco informed him. "Why? Are you trying to trick our resident fire brat?"

"I would if I could." The chef admitted shamelessly. "I'd turn into a fluffy pink poodle if that made him feel comfortable enough to talk to me."

He wasn't joking. He was being genuinely earnest and compassionate. Marco had to shake his head at it, even as he secretly admired his brother's kind nature. "That big heart of yours is going to get you killed someday, yoi."

Thatch pouted. "Well, if it does, I'll haunt you."

Marco's eyebrow crept upward. "Why would you haunt  _me_ , yoi?"

"Because if I don't you'll get boring and grumpy." Thatch said innocently. "Now then…" He opened the door to Marco's room dramatically. "Rise and shine—"

The chef froze. Marco shoved past him and stared blankly at the feathers drifting lazily to the floor, joining the already large pile of them on the ground. Ace stood in the center of the room, the Phoenix's ripped pillow in his grasp. He was standing on what appeared to be Marco's blankets, which were torn to shreds. Stefan sat on the feathers, oblivious to the tension in the room, and rolled onto his back, tongue lolling as he wiggled happily.

Ace pointed at the dog. "He did it."

Thatch made a strangled sound between a gasp and a giggle.

Marco allowed himself a moment of exasperation and put his head in his hands.


	8. Are You Happy?

Ace was not exactly certain how he had gotten in this situation. Well, maybe he was. He'd been sitting rather peacefully in Marco's room, watching Stefan trot about and sniff everything he could stick his nose in, and feeling almost content. In hindsight, that had been his first mistake. Contention led to relaxation, relaxation led to wandering minds, and suddenly Ace was having a panic attack and did not know why.

He made sure to stay completely silent as he rasped and gasped, unable to take in enough air as he tried to block the memories and stress that made him shudder. He did not understand it. There was no event that he had forgotten to stop, death he failed to prevent, or tragedy he couldn't avert.

That was usually why his body randomly turned against him, his subconscious mind recalling what his conscious mind did not. But that could not be the reason this time. It had to be something else. Maybe it was the silence in the room—  _Marco's_  room. Before this loop, Ace tended to only be alone and in the Phoenix's room when someone had died—

Ace could feel the cracks widening.

_No one is dead._  He reminded himself.  _Oyaji and Thatch and Marco are fine. They don't matter this loop anyway. Breathe, idiot._

He breathed. His muscles loosened. His heartbeat slowed.

This was why he could not sit around. Thinking would bring up memories and memories brought nothing but pain. The need to do—  _rip apart_ — something overwhelmed him and rather than turn on his own flesh like he had so many times before Ace found himself tearing blankets to shreds.

Stefan did not seem to mind the destruction, tail wagging obliviously as strips of fabric fell to the floor. It was rather cathartic to destroy something and it was only after he moved onto the pillows that he realized he was shredding Marco's stuff and not his own.

_Oops._ Ace watched feathers flutter to the hardwood and giggled.  _Well, shit._

At least he did not attack the paperwork. The teen considered hiding the evidence but Stefan had already settled on the feathers, laying his head on his paws. Perhaps it would be best to own it and pretend it was another act of bratty rebellion instead of a minor breakdown. On cue, the door opened.

"Rise and shine—" Thatch stopped in the doorway, mouth agape.

Marco immediately shoved past the frozen chef, blue eyes widening as he stared at the destruction in shock. Instinct took over and Ace could not manage to smirk and comment about how the Phoenix should not have left him alone. Instead he did the childish thing and pointed at Stefan.

"He did it."

Thatch made a weird noise like he was choking.

Marco put his hands to his forehead. " _Out_."

Ace could not pinpoint whether the Phoenix sounded angry or shocked. Either way, the teen sidled past the two Commanders, hands in his pockets. He forced down the instincts to act like their innocent, joking little brother—  _Not my family_ — and instead spoke mockingly.

"Sorry about that. You can borrow mine."

He walked off before Marco could explode or attack him. As soon as he was out of sight, Ace's smirk faded.

_I_ _ **actually**_ _ruined his stuff. I was just joking. I didn't mean to…_  He dismissed the guilt with a shake of his head.  _They're just pillows and blankets. They can be replaced. Besides, shredding sheets is better than going around burning things._

Ace really should try to adopt less destructive coping mechanisms. He doubted that knitting or cloud-watching would help him though.

_I'm better than I was_ , he reminded himself.

It was the truth. During his darkest days when he was being crushed by his failures and just wished everything would end, all too often his emotions would become too much and he'd become desperate to silence them.

He'd tried drinking his troubles away but he had to wear Seastone in order for the alcohol to affect him, which only brought up more bad memories of failure and helplessness. Then he'd tried different, non-destructive hobbies but they only kept him distracted for so long. He'd learned early on that killing himself would not end the loops either. Eventually he found a less resettable but still horrible alternative.

Whenever the memories began to drown him, Ace relied on pain to clear his head. He never did anything drastic. Just little things to give himself  _something_  else to focus on. He'd dig his nails into his palms. He'd bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. He'd scratch at his arms until puffy pink scrapes were left behind, though the lines would usually vanish in a few hours. Just little things to help him focus that left no evidence behind.

It had taken a few loops, but naturally Marco had been the one to find out. Needless to say, Ace had promised to stop— even though there was no lasting damage so who cared about what he was doing?— with the Phoenix watching him like a hawk for the rest of the loop. A loop which did not last very long.

Sometimes it was hard not to fall back into old habits.

Ace shook himself as he crept along one of the emptier hallways. He needed to figure out what he was going to do now, not sink into misery. If he wanted to be predictable, he should go try to assassinate Oyaj— Whitebeard…

His stomach lurched at the thought. Ace couldn't force himself to try again. The last attempt had been too close. He'd lost track of himself and forgot who he was fighting. He had made Whitebeard  _bleed_. The teen's hands trembled.

_I need to get out of here. I don't know how much longer I can stay in control._

His best bet was to try to avoid as many 'friendly' faces as possible at the moment until he had time to calm down. And since Marco would not let him stay in his room, he'd just have to hide out somewhere else. One of his old hiding places should be satisfactory.

He entered a storage room, peeling away one of the loose planks of wood and climbing into the space between the walls. He closed the entrance and walked in the dark, only having to hunch his shoulders slightly to move without bumping his head. Bigger guys like Jozu would never be able to fit but the teen was able to maneuver through the space easily. Ace never found out what these spaces were for, though he guessed they might be for emergency maintenance or something.

Or maybe it was meant for the purpose he used it for: sneaking through the ship without being spotted. If that were the case, Ace had to wonder why the Whitebeards were always so surprised when he revealed the 'passages' to them. Maybe the original shipwright never informed them?

It did not matter. The fact was, they did not know. And they never learned unless Ace decided they needed to. It was selfish of him, but he liked having spaces he could go to without people finding him. Not to mention that if a few Whitebeard Pirates found out, everyone eventually would.

Including Teach.

Ace made sure to breathe, and that his breaths were unaccompanied by bursts of flame.

_Teach isn't my problem_ , he thought for what must be the millionth time this loop alone.  _If I get the chance, I'll kill him, but other than that I don't need to do any…_

The image of Thatch's smiling face floated to the forefront of his mind.

Ace sat down abruptly and put his head in his palms, digging his nails into his cheeks. He realized what he was doing and lowered his hands, clasping them together tightly.

_I can't abandon them completely. The point of me staying away is to save them, but sometimes I_   _ **have**  _ _to be there so they don't die. Damn it all. I **can't**_ _do this again._

He dragged his hands over his face, feeling the clamminess of his skin. Even if he left, his stupid conscience would not let him leave his former family to their fate. He supposed he would just have to account for certain events and pop in when he needed to.

_Don't freak. Think of it as a challenge._  Ace leaned against a wooden wall, staring into the calm darkness around him.  _Everything will be more difficult because I won't be a Whitebeard and won't have easy access to them. That should be fun._

Picturing himself punching Teach's teeth in was almost enough to make him smile. Almost, but not quite.

_I wish I could be selfish. If I was, I wouldn't cling to stupid sentiments that aren't returned. I wouldn't_ _**care.** _

Ace touched a bruise on his wrist, feeling a slight twinge from the purplish welt.  _It doesn't matter yet. Teach doesn't start anything for a few years. I don't need to worry until then._   _I'll just stick to the plan._

Also known as: Ditch everyone as soon as possible and without much resistance.

For now, he just wanted to rest and not do anything at all. And who knew? Maybe his latest stunt and disappearance would make Marco snap and demand he leave. That would be great— preferred, even. Ace could dream, right?

OPOPOPOPOP

It had come to Marco's attention that Saber the former Spade Pirate had left a very important descriptor from his summary of Ace: problematic. The Phoenix inwardly fumed as he shooed Stefan away and began scooping up loose feathers from his ruined pillow. Tragic backstory or not, he honestly wanted to discipline the damn brat and punish him for what he had done. Sadly, the only type of discipline that might get through his thick skull was torture, and Marco was most definitely unwilling to go that far.

He had to wonder if parents had to deal with this while raising particularly troublesome teenagers. Then again, if the kid pushed them far enough, they could kick the brat out. But Marco could not kick out Fire Fist because it was Oyaji's decision in the end.

And maybe he was not that sick of the brat.

Yet.

Marco cleaned up the last of the stupid feathers as Thatch came back in, a pile of food in his arms. He went straight to Ace's hiding spot and added them to the bag. The vindictive part of Marco wanted to snap at him not to bother and that the brat did not deserve it, but insinuating that someone did not deserve to eat was a one-way ticket to getting pummeled and lectured by the chef.

The lack of bird puns that came as the Phoenix hoisted the bag of feathers onto his shoulder told him that Thatch understood he was upset and should not be teased at the moment. His complete silence told Marco the chef was waiting for him to talk.

"I'm going to go see if Izo can reuse these to make a new pillow, yoi." Marco said, unwilling to get into a heart to heart at the moment.

"Okay." Thatch said agreeably as he took out a piece of moldy bread, replacing it with a fresh loaf. "What are you going to do about Ace?"

Straight to the point. Marco's reply was equally blunt. "I don't know, yoi. I'm not sure I can stand rooming with him though."

"My door is always open for him." Thatch said.

"What, so he can destroy your belongings too?" Marco asked sarcastically.

The chef stood up, brushing off his pant legs and replacing the plank that hid Fire Fist's stolen goods. He put his hand on the hollow wall, following the grain with his forefinger and looked directly at Marco. "Have you talked to Ace?"

Marco blinked. "What? Of course I have, yoi."

Thatch shook his head. "I don't think so. You've talked  _about_  him with others and have spoken with him when it was necessary, but you haven't just  _talked_." The chef put a hand on the Phoenix's arm, meeting his eyes earnestly. "You told me you were going to give him a chance, but I'm not sure if you have. You flip flop between hating the kid and feeling pity for him. That's not getting to know him. Ace is supposed to become a brother, but you've never  _treated_ him like one. You don't trust him enough to."

Marco twitched.

The chef let go of him and stepped back, arms crossed and gaze sharp. "So  _yes_ , I'm willing to room with a kid who might rip apart my stuff in a panic. I'm going to keep being the person who looks past the spike-studded walls Ace put up and try to bond with the kid. I'm going to brush off all the stupid shit he pulls. Because if I can be a person he can bond with and make him see he deserves to be happy, I'll do it. I'll be his brother before he knew he wanted one."

Thatch went to the door and looked back, stern expression softening. "Just… think about it, okay? Tell me if you want to move Ace's stuff to my room."

He shut the door behind him with a soft click. Marco watched him go, torn between empathetic guilt and prideful dismissal. Thatch did not know the full reasons as to why the Phoenix intended to hold Fire Fist at arm's length, but Marco himself did not know the full reasons why Ace acted the way he did. Now that he considered it, the kid's actions seemed a little  _too_  intentional. He pressed their buttons, but many of his reactions suggested he did not intend to press them at all.

_Like when he hurt Oyaji._

Marco shook his head and set the bag of discarded feathers down. He no longer wanted to seek out Izo and deal with the questions the Commander would have. The Phoenix walked to his desk and sat heavily in his chair, rubbing at his forehead, and began idly going through the paperwork piled on top of it. A budget report, Marine movements, rumors of slave traders sailing in nearby waters, copies of the nurses' latest medical reports, the usual list of supplies needed once they reached land, a plethora of complaints from crew members and the shipwrights...

_Three guesses as to who they're complaining about._

Marco shoved the papers away and put his elbows on the desk, planting his head in them. Why did Oyaji have to pick such a difficult teen to be a part of their family? Stubbornness and a dark past was one thing, but Ace's deeply-rooted issues were blatantly evident and infuriatingly troublesome. A part of Marco honestly just wanted to label him as an obstinate brat… but it was obvious Thatch saw something more in the kid.

What if Thatch was right? What if the nagging feeling in the back of Marco's mind was right? What if the kid was intentionally trying to get himself kicked out because he did not feel like he wanted— or deserved— a family? Marco glowered at the list of complaints sitting innocently on his desk, resisting the urge to pick them up and tear them to shreds.

_Screw it._

He was done tiptoeing around the issue. He was finished asking mental questions and getting no answers. The person who had them was right there, and he was bloody well going to demand the truth right then and there.

The door creaked open and the current bane of his existence entered with arms filled with what appeared to be junk. The kid spotted him and froze like he had not expected Marco to still be there. Before he could escape, the Phoenix got up and shut the door, locking it. He turned back to Ace with arms crossed.

"We need to talk, yoi."

There. A hint of unease was quickly covered by a sneer. "No."

Ace went to unlock the door but Marco planted his hand on the knob. The teen backed away from him, posture tense and suspicious, and the Phoenix casually leaned on the closed door, meeting his glare with one of his own.

"I have a few questions, and you're going to answer them for me." He said.

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?" the teen asked scathingly. "The 'n', the 'o', or the silent 'fuck off'? It goes right in the middle, by the way. Did you know that?"

Marco breathed through his nose. "I'm not playing your games anymore. We are going to sit down and talk."

"Is that what you call interrogations in bird speak?" Ace mocked.

He knew what the brat was trying to do but kept his temper in check. "Why don't you want to be a part of this family?"

"You kidnapped me, asshole." Ace spat.

"Perhaps, yoi." Marco admitted. "But that is the ways of the New World. Oyaji could have crushed you instead."

"Oh, I know. That doesn't make you less of assholes." Ace informed him.

_I am going to keep talking with him civilly. I am not going to lose my temper,_  Marco reminded himself. "Why didn't you kill Oyaji when you had the chance?"

Ace looked at him like he was stupid. "Are you kidding me? I know you're a bird brain but how could you forget I've tried to kill him  _more than twenty times._ "

"You had the prime opportunity to kill him last time. You didn't, yoi." Marco said flatly.

Ace's mouth moved, expression twisting, but he could not seem to think of a rebuttal. He crossed his arms and looked away, sneering. "Think what you want."

"Oh, I have been." Marco told him. "That's the problem. See, I know you're hiding something." He walked over to the teen and looked down at him, pleased by the stark difference in their heights. Ace scowled up at him, but Marco could see the littlest bit of nervousness in his eyes. "You see, a few of the moves you used against Oyaji were  _my_ moves. Where'd you learn them?"

Unease vanished, leaving behind a stoic look and gleaming grey eyes. "The future you taught me." He said in a bored voice.

Marco exhaled angrily. "You know, if you're going to lie, at least do better than that, yoi."

"'Kay." Ace said. He tapped his chin. "I learned the basics from a guy named Inuarashi."

That gave Marco pause, his anger snuffed out like a candle. " _What_ , yoi?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What does he look like?"

"He's a canine Mink from this place called Zou. Tall, black ears, white beard, bushy tail. Pretty humble and benevolent guy." Grey eyes grew distant but the kid snapped back into focus, smirking.

Marco did not speak, processing the kid's claim. As far as he knew the Spades had not made it to Zou yet, but they possibly might have run into Inuarashi elsewhere.

_Or Ace met him before becoming a pirate…_

Either way, it was  _possible_  the kid was telling the truth and had indeed learned about Marco's technique from the Mink. Improbable, but not impossible. There was also little chance of Ace knowing that Inuarashi was a former Whitebeard ally, so him simply saying the name to get Marco off his back was unlikely. The Phoenix would accept his answer. For now.

"Fine, yoi." he grunted.

The kid did not relax, maintaining his irritated look. "Great. Can I go now, bird brain?"

"No." Marco hesitated but pushed onward, no longer willing to beat around the bush. "I talked to a former Spade Pirate—" The neutral expression returned. "— and they told me something interesting. He said you have a… problem with the older generation of pirates. Would you like to tell me why that is, yoi?"

Ace bared his teeth in what could cautiously be called a grin. "Well, long ago on the island of Fuckoff, I was attacked by Captain Noneofyourbusiness and got very  _sad_. The end."

He tried to push past Marco but the Phoenix grabbed his arm. Marco felt the muscles tense beneath his fingers.

"Let go of me." Ace hissed.

"I don't think so, yoi." Marco said levelly. He went over Ace's 'story', taking out the sarcasm for the possible pieces of truth in the brief rant. In the hope of avoiding more 'answers', the Phoenix decided it was best to be blunt. "Was it a Yonko who hurt you?"

Ace flinched. His eyes darted down and away before he forced them back onto Marco. "Why would you think that?" he sneered.

Marco's heart sank. "You didn't answer me."

He could practically see the kid cursing himself for the slipup. "Screw off."

"You still didn't answer me, yoi." The Phoenix said. "Ace, Oyaji isn't like—"

"Stop." Ace choked. The shift in tone from snarling to strangled— and fragile?— startled Marco, making him physically reel back. "Just  _stop it_." He yanked his arm from Marco's grasp, gripping his own head and breathing harshly.

Marco kept his hands at chest level, palms out peacefully. "Stop what?"

Grey eyes snapped to him. "Stop  _asking_. You— You don't have the right to ask! It doesn't matter. None of it. I won't let it." His eyes glinted, gaining an almost mad gleam, and a cold smile stretched across his face. "You want to know, Marco? You want to butt in my business? Fine."

His threw his arms wide. "Everyone I love dies! Over and over and over!" he said with a too-wide grin. "And don't you fucking say that you won't. It's  _alllllllll a_   _lie~!_ " His voice gained a disturbing sing-song tone.

Ace clapped his hands together, making Marco jump. "There you go, Marco! There's my little secret! Aren't you  _happy you asked?_ "

Marco could not find his voice to respond, trapped in the pure  _agony_  in Ace's eyes.

"I won't let you in. If I do you'll die." the kid informed him calmly. "But you keep shoving shoving  _shov-ing~_ your way into my life. Who cares what I want? You certainly don't! I'm just the universe's chew toy. Fuck Ace! He needs to suffer!" Ace abruptly lowered his arms, expression clouding. "Why won't you just let me _leave?_   _ **I want to be alone.**_ " His voice came out strangled and guttural, almost like an animal's growl.

Marco swallowed. "I—"

"Shut up." Ace tipped his head, eyes going dull. "I know what you're trying to do. I also know what you really think of me. So please, kindly get the fuck out of my face and stop wasting both our times."

"No." Marco blurted, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. Ace looked at him and the Phoenix gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm not giving up on you."

Ace smiled back, all teeth. "Fuck it. I can't do this."

Marco barely registered the metallic glint of a knife before instincts took over and he lunged for the kid, a panicked shout ripping from his throat. The Phoenix tackled Ace to the ground, sending the dagger flying. The kid didn't fight him, staying limp and silent with blank eyes that saw nothing.

Was he in shock?

Then his body jolted and Marco realized Ace was laughing, soft, hysterical giggles bubbling past his lips. Tired-hollow-anguished- _broken_  grey eyes looked at him and Ace grinned. "Are you happy, Marco? You finally got to know me. Will you let me go now?"

The Phoenix could not answer him. "We're going to help you, Ace." He said instead.

That unsettling grin stayed on Ace's face. "You can't."

Ace didn't stop laughing until Bay rushed into the room and sedated him.

OPOPOPOPOP

_Marco was dead._

_Thatch was dead._

_Oyaji was dead._

_Luffy was dead._

_Everyone was dead._

_Except him._

_He could not die with them. He needed to kill those responsible first. So he did._

_Ace calmly yanked his dagger from Akainu's throat, watching the Admiral bleed out apathetically. Once his enemy stopped breathing, the twenty-five year old calmly sat beside his fallen foe, allowing the pain in his abdomen to overwhelm him. The bastard had gotten a nice hit in through his stomach, close to what had killed him the first time but not quite. This blow was lower and came from the front._

_But the most glaring difference between then and now was that Ace had no one left to take the strike for._

_He was dying. But he would not die. He would reset, again, in a new loop._

_He would start again, in a new loop._

_He would try to save his friends again, in a new loop._

_He would fail, in a new loop._

_He couldn't stop it._

_Ace passed on quickly and rather peacefully. He woke up below a familiar ceiling. He was a teenager again. Yellow shirt, no tattoo. He stood up and walked outside, looking up at the cheerful sun and bright blue sky. He watched the birds fly by, swooping and calm and free._

" _Hey, Ace!"_

_Thatch ran up to him, smiling and alive and happy._

_He was not the previous Thatch that Ace had lost. He never was, but he would become a cherished Thatch someday._

_He would die someday. Or someone else would. Or everyone._

_Ace would begin again. A new loop. There was no end._

_Thatch was smiling._

_The sun was shining._

_The reset was beginning._

_Again._

_The thousandth-plus loop. Years and years of loops. Failure after failure after failure._

_No end._

_There was no explosion. There was no tragic demise. There was no specific trigger other than the thousands upon thousands of losses piled up and up and up high into the calm blue sky._

_No end. No victory. No escape._

_**No.** _

_**End.** _

_The cracks widened too quickly to stop._

_The calm shattered like glass._

_The resolve crumbled into dust._

_The knowledge crushed his fracturing mind._

_The hopelessness swallowed his soul whole._

_And Portgas D. Ace broke._


	9. Gone

_It took Ace another thirty-odd loops to put himself back together enough to function. He could not recall anything from those loops except the sharp stench of blood, fire, and burned flesh and a vague, vicious sense of satisfaction. He must have killed Teach. He hoped it was Teach. He did not last long enough to find out._

_Ace spent twenty-odd more loops covering the cracks in his psyche because if he showed the instability he'd be stuck in the infirmary. Again._

_One method he used was a simple smile. Smiling was easy for Ace, but those smiles were not exactly… pleasant. They were too wide, too crazed, too **bloodthirsty**. Which was why, at seventeen years old again, he sat in front of a mirror and grinned. _ _The latest smile did not reach his eyes. None of them did. Maybe that was why the Whitebeards could see the cracks._

_Ace's lips twitched, teeth starkly white against his tan skin, and he closed his lips, pursing them in an attempt to erase the unhinged grin he just displayed. He could smile like that in battle, not anywhere else. He needed to look fine and functional and human or he would never have the chance to save them._

_So he gathered up the pieces, holding them together as their sharp edges made his fingers bleed, and smiled. Soften the eyes. Make them light up. Smallest adjustment of the lips. Less teeth._

_There._

_The smile looked natural enough. Just a little odd, but that oddness could be passed off as simple D wildness. He could do this. He could function enough to complete his mission. He could pretend._

_He was already broken once. Surely he would not break again?_

OPOPOPOPOP

Ace regained consciousness in the infirmary. What a shocking turn of events. He withheld a cackle and looked at his wrists, not surprised to see Seastone cuffs chaining him to the bed. Only around his wrists though. Not his ankles. Their mistake.

Ace settled back, thoughtfully tugging at the restraints. He could break free but he should probably wait until Bay came by and talked to him. Yay, talking. Talking was always such fun. Talking and probing and trying to unlock his tragic backstory was such funny-fun. The funnest of all the funs.

He giggled again, because the alternative to giggling was crying or screaming. There were no other options because oh, look at that, the cracks were wide open and gaping like a slashed throat, there for everyone to see.

_Well, shit._

Ace could not put the pieces back together. He was not sure if half the pieces even existed anymore. A distant part of him might be mourning the loss, but the rest of him wanted to laugh and laugh and never stop—  _Laugh or scream._

He laughed.

He'd messed up so badly it was hilarious. He thought he had been in control enough to risk running into Marco, but nope the Phoenix had to go digging into his super-secret unlockable-traumatic backstory. He had been doing so well, and then he wasn't because of course Marco had to bring up how Oyaji was not like other Yonko, something Ace knew and cherished and was desperately trying to throw away.

_I shouldn't have lost control. I should have walked out of the room as soon as I could._

Apparently his conscience still existed because it was not allowing him to blame the Phoenix for his situation. Stupid Phoenix. Stupid conscience. Stupid cracks.

_I should have ended the loop sooner._

Ace heard the creak of an opening door and kept staring at the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling, a familiar ceiling. Very plain and calming. He considered pretending to be okay— "Well, it was just a short panic attack, you see. I'm perfectly fine now!" Insert natural smile.— but knew he could not trick Bay. He was not sure he could even summon a mask of sanity anymore. He intended to do everything he could to keep her from going through the steps of 'healing' him and wasting their time, however.

The doctor stopped beside him but Ace spoke before she could.

"Soooooo… Who knows I went psycho?" he asked idly.

Bay sighed. "You're not psychotic, Ace."

"'Psychotic: of, denoting, or suffering from a psychosis. Also known as insane, mad, or deranged.'" Ace said cheerfully. "Pretty sure I am. Don't try to spare my feelings, doc." He tugged at the restraints. "If I promise to be a good boy will you let me go?"

"No." Bay said, barely blinking. "We're going to help you, Ace."

Ace rolled his eyes. "No thanks. I'm good. I've done this song and dance before, you know. Talking to you about it won't change anything because you'll die and it won't matter." Ace spoke matter-of-factly because it was all facts of the matter haha. "Besides, I can't be fixed. I'm not being dramatic. I literally and truly  _can't_. There's too much there. Just… let me go." He realized his tone went from dry to too quiet and sighed inwardly.

"You're not broken—" Bay began.

"Heard it." Ace interrupted.

She paused, but began again. "We can help—"

"Nope."

She stayed calm. "There are multiple avenues to—"

"Tried them."

"Well, we can try something diff—"

"It won't be."

Bay sat back, still outwardly calm. Ace wondered if she was seething inside but was too professional to show it. Nah. He had not done enough to get under her skin. Bay was a good doctor. She was stern and empathetic and always wanted to help. He just wished she wouldn't try to help  _him_.

"What do you want, Ace?" she asked eventually, no inflection in her voice.

Ace met her eyes, the answer abundantly clear. "For you to let me go and forget about me."

"Why?"

"Because if I stay you'll die."

She ran a hand through her hair. "Do you truly believe that?"

"I  _know_  it." He stated.

He returned his gaze to the ceiling, determined not to close his eyes and see images of his dead friends from previous loops. He was not going to do this again. If he tried, he would explode and they'd sedate him. He hated getting drugged by friends or enemies. All drugs did was make him feel sick and woozy or hurt like a son of a gun.

_If she comes at me with a syringe I'm booking it._

Bay exhaled, the noise notable frustrated. "You sound so sure. Can you see the future, Ace?" Her tone was the slightest bit sarcastic as her temper began to get the best of her.

In response, Ace was genuine. "Well, I wouldn't say that."

Silence. He peered at her and saw she was frowning. She would not figure it out. No one did unless he was obvious about it or flat out told them. She'd probably think he had a power like Katakuri's but on steroids or something. Or she'd just think he was crazy. Either worked fine for him.

It wasn't like he would be staying here for long.

_I'm done struggling._

"I need to go for a second, but I'll be right back, okay?" Bay said eventually.

Ace was instantly on guard but smiled anyway. "Sure. Go gossip about me with Marco, kay?"

If Bay was surprised she did not show it.

Ace watched her leave to go talk to the Phoenix, who he could sense outside. As soon as the door clicked shut he flexed his hands, exhaling softly, and dislocated his thumbs. The jolt of pain was nothing and he quickly pulled his hands through the manacles, wincing as the metal scraped his skin. He pulled the joints back into place and sat up, glancing at the door.

Bay could be back any minute and he did not want to have to fight her and whoever was with her. Good thing he had an easy way to get past them.

Ace closed his eyes and carefully sent out a small flame— barely a spark— from his fingertip. The odd sensation of his body splitting came over him, but he was more than used to his power. Carefully, he guided the spark out the door and down the hall, relying on memory to guide the idly floating fire that was barely the size of the point of a needle.

It had taken a long time, much patience, and many— sometimes fatal— mistakes to be able to do this. As a Logia, he could turn his entire body into his element and control it, picking it apart and putting it back into its unified state at will. As fire, he could do tricks like make himself thin enough to fit through small spaces before reforming on the other side, a technique many Logia could use but only some understood that their body was not limited to a human shape.

Many loops ago, Ace had taken to experimenting with his fruit. Through those experiments, he tested how far he could extend pieces of his flame-turned self. It was only when he saw he could pull his bits of fire back to him from afar that he came up with the idea. Instead of calling the small flames to him, what if he brought himself to the flames?

If one did not know better, they might call it teleportation. Ace was not that foolish. He was simply dragging his larger pieces to the smaller ones as mind-boggling speeds, moving too quickly for most to see with the naked eye. It was not infallible, however.

First, he had to know exactly what his flames would pass through on the way to the spark. Second, he could not bring anyone with him. Things he could turn to flame— like his clothes, hat, and bag— were fine, but people just got left behind, usually with burns. Third, the technique was dangerous and had killed him more than once during his experimental stage.

If he reformed too quickly, he'd break his neck. Same for if someone grabbed him during the jump and forced him back into his physical form. That was why he used it primarily to travel, escape, and evade rather than fight, unless he was dealing with fodder he wanted to mow through of course.

Which led to now.

Ace exhaled, sensing his spark in his usual hiding place near the stern. He focused on the spot, feeling a slight tugging sensation behind his navel. Then he deformed.

The rush to his floating spark took less than a second, but Ace's Observation Haki allowed him to see everything he passed in fine detail. Everyone and everything appeared frozen in time— Marco and Bay outside the infirmary. Haruta in the hall. Izo and Namur on the deck.— but it was gone in an instant as he snapped into place with his missing piece, body reforming with an unsettling jolt like his skeleton wanted to break.

Ace swayed slightly, careful not to stumble and make a noise, and shook off the dizziness and slight nausea that accompanied the transfer. He rubbed at his skin, pleased that he had not left a chunk of flesh somewhere, and leaned his head against the wall, sliding into a sitting position.

_I can't stay here._

He had known that for a while, but had been content to wait until they reached the island. Now that was impossible, and not just because of his breakdown. Well, maybe it was mostly because of his breakdown. There was no way they'd let him go now. All they do was waste their time trying to fix him with techniques they had attempted in different loops. Ace was too lost to be brought back, and he did not have the patience to weather their well-meaning attempts to help.

It was all so  _fucking repetitive and_ _ **IT. DID. NOTHING—**_

_Calm down. Caaallllmmm. Cal—_  The cracks wouldn't close. They'd never close. They'd never ever  _ever_  close _—_ _Screw it. Screw plans. Screw the future. Screw_ _ **everything**_ _._

Ace breathed to focus himself. He needed to move quickly. Bay was going to notice he was gone and they'd search the ship, lessening his chances of escape. He needed to grab his food and go on a small boat. Forget the dangers of the high seas. He wasn't sticking around. He did not have a choice anymore unless he wanted to reset and do it all over again.

He did not care that they still cared about him.

He did not care that they wanted to 'help'.

He was done waiting.

It was time to leave.

It was time to disappear from their lives for good.

OPOPOPOPOP

Marco took in the empty bed in the infirmary blankly, as if staring at the mattress long enough would make Portgas D. Ace magically reappear in it. He had been speaking with Bay outside the door for only a few minutes, discussing how they might help the stubborn teen, only to return to find him  _gone_. They had not moved away from the doorway. How the hell did he get past them?

Bay's loud curse knocked him out of his shock and he ran down the hall, swearing. He ran into Izo first and grabbed his shoulder.

"Ace is missing." Marco hissed.

The okama's eyes went round with comprehension. He dashed off, snapping at his division members to search the ship as he went. The pirates soon became a chaotic swarm of running bodies, the news that Fire Fist was loose somewhere spreading like wildfire. Some searched out of concern, but many searched out of a misplaced sense of fear, because  _naturally_  one of the Commanders had 'let it slip' about Ace's breakdown causing rumors to run rampant through the vessel.

If he was not so concerned about finding Fire Fist at the moment, Marco would be outright pissed. Instead of hunting down Ace, he'd be investigating who the hell blabbed after the emergency meeting with Oyaji about the kid. Medical conditions— especially mental ones— were not something people should gossip about, and the rumors would likely only increase the stigma against Ace.

_What a mess._

Fossa caught Marco's arm as he went out onto the deck, pulling him to a halt before he could dart away. The Commander glanced around and lowered his voice so no one could overhear him. "One of our boats is gone."

Marco looked out at the calm blue sea as a pit settled in his stomach. He pulled his arm free and went back below deck, rushing to his room. He barged through the door and yanked the panel that hid Ace's food aside. The space was empty. Comprehension weighed heavily on his thoughts and none of the expletives in the world could lessen its blow.

" _I think the brat either realized he was letting you in and has decided to work harder to keep you out or that near-miss yesterday affected him more than we thought."_

"' _He may pretend to be different but Yonko are all the same. They don't accept 'no' as an answer and you either choose to join them or die.'"_

" _Lead the way to my new cell, bird-brain."_

" _Can you please just throw me off the ship already? In a boat or into the sea. I'm not picky. It's obvious you don't like me."_

" _Can I go now, bird brain?"_

" _Who cares what I want? You certainly don't."_

" _Why won't you just let me leave?_ _ **I want to be alone.**_ _"_

_We should have seen this coming_ , Marco realized, heart sinking.  _His goal wasn't to kill Oyaji anymore. I don't know if that was ever his real intention. All he wanted was to escape the ship._

_And he knew we wouldn't let him go._

Marco disregarded Whitebeard's desires. He dismissed Ace's caustic retorts and actions. He pushed aside all his preconceptions, and tried to look at the whole situation from an outsider's—  _Ace's_ — point of view.

He was captured by a Yonko's crew. He was forced to stay with them. They expected him to join them and become a part of their family without considering for a second that maybe he  _really_  did not want to. They may be nicer about it, but they were still holding him against his will. In that context… were they any different than Kaido or Big Mom, pressuring their desired crewmate until they submitted? Ace made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of giving in, but that denial was not from simple pride like Marco once assumed.

Seeing that he could not defeat Whitebeard to regain his freedom, Ace tried other methods, trying to make himself unlikable to make the Whitebeard Pirates  _want_  him gone. But all the while his demons came back, getting stronger and stronger the longer he was cooped up with those he wanted to leave…

And Marco's questioning and attempts to understand made them burst out all at once, leaving Ace with all his scars clearly on display and the last people he wanted caring— his 'captors'— insisting that they help him heal.

Viewing Ace and the situation through that lens, Marco fell slowly into regret. If he had thought of it sooner, maybe he could have done something different. Maybe he could have helped genuinely and without ulterior motives. He could have approached Ace as someone who merely wanted to be a friend, and not someone who expected them to be family.

It was too late now. Ace was gone, out alone in a dangerous sea, unbalanced mentally and preferring to risk death rather than stay on the Moby Dick a moment longer.

Marco and the others should leave him be. They should let him go despite knowing that he was likely running to his demise. Except… the Phoenix was  _invested_  in the kid. He  _cared_. It might be out of a lingering selfish desire to see Ace be happy with their family, or simply out of pity, but he worried about Fire Fist's wellbeing. He wanted the kid to  _live_ , dammit.

Ace wanted them to leave him alone.

Should they?

The Phoenix could not make the decision, both because it fell onto Oyaji at the end of the day and because of the confliction between his heart and mind. His mind told him that Ace was not worth the effort and he should move on, while his heart ached with empathy or pity and ordered him to help the troubled teen. He did not know which one to follow. He hoped Whitebeard would.

Feeling like the world had settled on his shoulders, Marco slowly exited his room, informing random division members to find their Commanders and tell them they needed to meet. It was time to make the final decision about Portgas D. Ace.

Should they try to bring him back?

Or should they let the caged bird with broken wings go free?


	10. Of Choices and Stowaways

The air rippled with uneasy energy. Or perhaps it should be considered heavy. Whatever the tense atmosphere hanging over them was, it pressed down on the Commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates and Bay, driving some to nervous discomfort while others wallowed in varying degrees of guilt and uncertainty. Marco wished he could claim he was above such emotions, but could not deny the slight twist in his chest whenever he thought about why they were here.

Portgas D. Ace got what he wanted. He was away from the ship, and them. The logical part of Marco thought that should be the end of it and they should let the kid exit their lives but desires driven by his heart or maybe just his urge to finish things could not simply let him go. In the end, it was not his decision to make. Thus the reason for this meeting, with a solemn Whitebeard at its head. Marco was not the only one to glance at their father every few seconds, allowing themselves brief glimpses to attempt to piece together what unshared thoughts lay hidden behind his distant gaze.

"You are certain he's left?" the Yonko asked.

"Yes, Oyaji." Marco confirmed. "Ace isn't on the ship and one of the smaller vessels is missing. He's gone."

"I don't understand!" Thatch blurted before Whitebeard could respond. "Why would he leave now?"

"He had a meltdown and knows all of us know about it." Izo pointed out levelly. "That may have encouraged him to run."

"But we were going to  _help_  him." Thatch said lowly. Marco winced at the raw hurt in his voice. "We were supposed to guide Ace and let him know he's welc—"

The chef's jaw snapped shut and he ducked his head, staring intently at his clenched hands. The Phoenix could not begin to guess what he had intended to say, but the fact that Thatch felt he should not finish the thought in present company unsettled Marco. The Phoenix's gaze drifted from brother to brother, taking in their varying expressions. Some looked concerned, others neutral… and others looked bored, as if they did not understand why they were here.

"It's not our job to fix the brat." Haruta pointed out what some had to be thinking. "We offered him a place in our family and he rejected it and ran off. He's no longer our problem."

"So we're just supposed to move on and forget him, just like that?" Thatch asked, switching from morose to incensed in an instant.

"Yes." Haruta said bluntly. "What do you want to do? Chase down a guy who wants nothing to do with us? We should just let him go. We aren't his babysitters."

"I think making sure the kid doesn't die on the ocean somewhere should be sorted under 'being a decent human being' not 'babysitting'." Thatch snarled.

"And I say it again:  _He isn't our responsibility_ ,  _or our family_." Haruta snapped back.

It was disconcerting to see the normally jovial partners-in-crime glower at each other. Marco decided enough was enough and slammed his hands onto the table, making both brothers jump.

"Stop it, both of you." He said sternly. "Arguing like children will get us nowhere, yoi."

Two glares transferred to the Phoenix, one tinged with worry while the other held pure rage.

"Both sides have a point though." Izo interjected before Haruta or Thatch unwisely chose to yell at the First Division Commander. "Ace is not one of us. However, he did become our responsibility when we attempted to recruit him into our family. If he had chosen to leave us when we were somewhere relatively safe, I'd let it go, but we are in the middle of the ocean." Impartial eyes locked with Haruta's. "Would you not regret it if we read the newspaper and found out he died?"

Haruta broke eye contact first.

"That's what I'm trying to say." Thatch said. "I can't sit around and wait for a newspaper to tell us if he's alive or not. I say we just get him to land. We're not trying to bring him back. We'll just go to make sure he  _survives_."

To many, it may seem like Thatch was telling the whole truth, that he did indeed want to pursue Ace and help him simply out of the goodness of his heart. Well, the chef certainly did want to assist Ace, but Marco had no doubts that Thatch had no intention of simply letting the kid walk away. He still believed Ace had a place in their family.

_What did you see that made you so attached, my friend?_

"What do you think, Bay?" Whitebeard asked, stopping any further arguments.

The doctor drummed her fingers on her sword's pommel, nails occasionally clicking on the hilt. "Despite what the others choose, I am going to go after him." She stated. "Ace is my patient, and as his doctor, I have a duty to him."

The implied 'I'm going with or without your permission.' went unsaid. Marco could not say he was surprised. Whitebeard was not one to restrict the freedom of his children, only asking the Captains to do the occasional mission or come when needed. For the most part, they could do what they wished, and as a doctor and Captain, Bay had even more autonomy.

If she believed medical matters outweighed Whitebeard's orders, she could adjust her mission or even ignore the Yonko's commands, within reason of course. Whitebeard trusted her judgement and expertise, and Bay was not the type to frivolously disregard Oyaji. If Bay thought she needed to pursue Ace, Whitebeard would let her. As for the Commanders…

"Permission to go with Bay, Oyaji?" Thatch asked without pause.

Whitebeard briefly closed his eyes. Before the silence stretched too long, he nodded once. "Of course. Izo and Marco may go as well, since I believe they will be distracted if they remain here."

The Yonko's tone was not chiding, but if Marco were not so controlled, he may have flushed. Izo also kept an unapologetic look, leaving Thatch to smile guiltily. "Are you sure you can spare us all?"

"I'm on my own anyway most of the time." The New World Captain pointed out.

"Well, yes, but I'm head chef and Marco is in charge of the First and Second Divisions and—" Thatch's mouth snapped shut with a click as he realized he was providing reasons why they should not go and thus was sabotaging his own arguments.

Whitebeard did not appear to mind. "Do not fret, my son. Your second-in-command is quite capable, and the rest of your siblings can divide Marco's duties among themselves. We will be fine without four Commanders."

Marco blinked and did some mental calculations. Bay had evidently done the same.

"Oyaji, unless I got a promotion I don't really want, I think you mean three." The New World Captain said slowly.

"Unless you have changed your mind, then you are still a Captain." Whitebeard said. He smiled briefly when Bay's nose wrinkled. "I thought as much. Then I did not miscount. Haruta will be also going with you."

" _WHAT?!_ " Haruta squawked. "Why would I want to do—?" The Commander remembered who he was talking to. "Er. Why me, Oyaji?"

"You have not gone on a mission in a few months." Whitebeard said. "I can see that you'd like to go out there again." His eyebrows crept up his forehead. "Or is there another reason other than boredom as to why you decided that the left socks of the entire Third Division needed to be transformed into a fishing net?"

"You still owe me compensation." Jozu growled.

Haruta turned red. "Hey, it took  _days_  to make that. You should marvel at my creativity."

"It's difficult to 'marvel' when everyone has blisters on their left foot." Jozu grunted.

Haruta hummed vaguely and crossed his arms. "I was bored, okay?"

"Then there is no reason why you cannot accompany your siblings on this mission." Whitebeard said lightly.

Haruta's lips thinned. "I guess. Sure, I'll go."

Marco glanced at him sharply, displeased with the resignation in his tone. Normally any mission would have Haruta bouncing off the walls. Then again, the Commander had blatantly shown his belief that Ace wasn't worth the effort and that the mission was an unnecessary waste of their time—

The Phoenix blinked, gaze flicking to Whitebeard, and he took in the Yonko's pensive expression. The Yonko did not meet his eyes, keeping his stare on Haruta, but Marco knew that his father was aware he had figured out what he was playing at. The Phoenix withheld a sigh, already foreseeing the inevitable arguments and misery he'd have to deal with in the future. And it would be him because he was the oldest and most responsible.

Fun.

"So it's agreed then, yoi." was all the Phoenix said. "Bay, Thatch, Izo, Haruta, and I will go after Ace and make sure he gets to land. We will not dig into his secrets—" Izo gave him a disinterested stare Marco did not believe for a second. "— we will not antagonize him—" Haruta glared at the tabletop. "—and we will not try to make him join us." Thatch avoided Marco's pointed stare. "We're just going to make sure he doesn't die and hopefully part on better terms."

"Do you think he could be a threat to us in the future?" Vista asked seriously.

"Yeah, right." Haruta muttered.

Marco wisely ignored him. "I doubt it, but things like this can turn into an issue down the line. The kid's going to be strong someday. I'd rather not have him have a grudge against us."

"He won't. He's not the type." Thatch said. "Still, we'd better hurry up and find him just to make sure everything's a-okay. I'll go get supplies for the boat!"

The chef leapt to his feet, eager to get going. Marco caught his arm before he could dash out of the room.

"Make sure you double check the boat before we head off, yoi." he cautioned. "You know Stefan likes to sneak onto the smaller ships and tag along."

Thatch laughed. "I don't blame him. He loves to go on adventures."

OPOPOPOP

It was quiet. Quiet, but not silent. The wind and waves whispered sweet nothings, accompanied only by the occasional roar of flames as Ace used his fruit to propel himself just a little faster. The small boat he had acquired was not meant to use his fire as a means of movement so could not do it constantly, but it could handle short bursts meant to put more distance between himself and the Moby Dick.

It was so  _quiet_. There were no Whitebeard Pirates bantering with each other. There were no Commanders ordering their subordinates around. There were no shrieks from Haruta or Thatch's latest victims. There was no bell signaling breakfast, lunch, or dinner, nor were there any alarms that another hostile ship in the area.

There were no other people here except Ace.

He was alone.

Ace  _loved_  it.

He couldn't stop smiling, but this smile felt different than his about-to-snap-or-burst-into-tears smile. It might just be genuine, which was weird. Weird, but expected. Because Ace was as free as he could be. He didn't have to worry about watching out for Teach, or acting normal, or accidentally acting suspicious, or  _anything_.

There were no people he had to stop from dying, no plans to be made, no precautions to put in place… In previous loops, he was only alone when trying to avenge someone who had died. Even a majority of his old missions had involved going to assist someone, or being accompanied by a crewmate. This time, he truly was by himself with no attachments, responsibilities, or goals to drag him down.

He could simply live, if he wanted to.

What a marvelous and terrifying concept.

Even though he was trying to get as far away from the Whitebeard Pirates as possible, Ace was unable to find any urgency in his situation. He could relax because he was  _out_. He was  _free_. The future did not matter, this loop did not matter, his choices did not matter, and the one choice he did make made sure they would not die because of him this time. Ace knew the high of happiness would not last. It never did. But for now he allowed himself to enjoy it with a wild grin on his face.

_I'm a free man,_  he mused, grin widening at the thought.  _I can do anything, go anywhere… Well, except East Blue._

Ace may have ditched the Whitebeard Pirates, but he could not break ties with Luffy. The bond with his brother had remained strong throughout all the loops, mostly helped by how  _consistent_  the rubber pirate was.

Every loop without fail his little brother  _understood_. Well, he did not understand exactly but Luffy  _listened_. More importantly,  _he did not care_. He did not care that Ace was harsher and more stressed and sadder than he remembered. He did not care that Ace sometimes woke up screaming from nightmares or dazedly informed him Luffy was dead again while in an exhausted stupor. He did not care when Ace would randomly leave and return covered with blood, bluntly informing Luffy that the enemy had been taken care of. Luffy loved his big bro anyway and did not treat him like broken glass that needed to be mushed back together with glue.

Ace missed Luffy. But he could not go see him. Thus why the Logia would avoid East Blue like the plague. Not because he did not want to see his little brother, but because he did not want to ruin his future. Even with all his experience, Ace could not account for everything, and he always managed to accidentally run into someone from Luffy's adventures without intending to.

Those loops usually ended with Luffy dead.

It was almost illogical, but Ace had seen it happen enough times to know it was the truth. One slight alteration could result in Luffy not meeting Nami, or Chopper, or Zoro, and the lack of said crewmember tended to end the future Pirate King's adventures prematurely. It was terrifying to know how close his little brother always came to death, but Ace usually did more damage by trying to get involved than he did by staying away.

He'd never forget the loop where he'd accidentally saved Nami from Arlong and she'd become a  _Whitebeard_  Pirate when she was fifteen.

Going to East Blue was a major no-no. Unless he Majorly Fucked Up— capital letters required— Luffy's adventures before entering the New World should remain mostly unchanged. Ace just had to remember to meet with Luffy in Alabasta so he did not get captured by Smoker.

_That's in three years. I have time._

What should he do in that time? Go wherever the winds took him? Bug a few Yonko? Make a name for himself as a mysterious unknown?

Ace smirked.  _Whatever the hell I want._

His stomach growled, forcing him out of his euphoria and back to earth. Ace glanced at the sun, noting the time of day, and gave a low chuckle.  _I guess I should eat._

He headed into the small cabin that served as shelter on the vessel. It did not have much, but it held far more than Striker ever could. A bed, a small stove, and even a couple cabinets for storage. But— most importantly— it had walls and a roof to stave off the elements, which was more than Ace was used to whenever he raced out on his own to seek vengeance—

Ace's stomach cramped and he halted mid-step, wrapping his arms around his gut and inhaling shakily.  _They're still alive this time. Breathe._

He breathed. He uncurled. He walked over to the cabinet and opened it, revealing his stash of food. Any chef worth their salt would never approve of his sorting and preservation methods— or lack of them— but in Ace's opinion, as long as the food didn't stink or look fuzzy, it was edible. Usually.

Ace carefully picked through his rations, pulling out things that would likely spoil first and ignoring the tightness in his chest when he noticed the amount was much larger than it had been when he'd last took stock. He only needed one guess as to who had given him more food. Rather than think about Thatch, Ace squashed the memories before they could bring him down.

_I made my choice. I'm not a Whitebeard. I'm out. I'm free. I'm alone—_

A shadow moved in his peripheral. Ace kept his posture relaxed as he stood with some meat, casually retrieving his knife from its sheathe. The dagger was not exactly made for throwing, but he did not want to burn down his only mode of transportation on the first freaking day so it would have to do.

The shadow moved along the wall, darting under the bed, and recognition dawned. Ace's muscles loosened and he sheathed his knife, lifting his palm to his forehead. Slowly, he dragged his hand  _dooowwwwwnnnn_  over his face, feeling the bumps and creases of his features. His palm hovered over his mouth and he released a gust of air that was surprisingly unaccompanied by a frustrated scream. Once he was certain he was not going to have a meltdown, Ace lowered his hand and snapped his fingers, pointing at his feet.

"Here." He ordered.

Stefan crept out from under the bed, ears and tail perking up hopefully. Upon seeing Ace's definitively unimpressed glower, the dog's appendages drooped and he meekly tiptoed to the teen's side. Stefan nudged Ace's leg and looked at him with pitiful eyes. The Logia's eye twitched.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

Stefan tilted his head and blinked innocently. When Ace's countenance did not change, the dog licked his hand. All of Ace's ire melted away and he sighed, scratching Stefan behind the ears. He should have known this was going to happen again. He  _knew_  that Stefan liked to hide in the smaller vessels. He  _knew_  that he always needed to check to make sure the dog was not there before departing. And yet here he was, with an unwanted stowaway. This was not even the first time Stefan had decided to go with him without his knowledge, though it was the first where he had no intention of returning to the Moby Dick.

_I can't go home again._

Ace's hand quivered as he stroked Stefan's smooth fur. Unaware of Ace's spiraling thoughts, Stefan perked up, tail wagging happily and smacking into the teen's leg.

"I'm not bringing you back." Ace informed him flatly. "And I'm not dropping you off at their island either. They could catch up too easily and I don't want to see them again."

Almost like he understood what the human was saying, Stefan's tail stopped wagging and he leaned back onto his haunches. Before Ace could respond to the apparent dismay, Stefan balanced on his hind legs, planting his forepaws onto the teen's chest and licking his chin. Ace grumbled and gently pushed him away.

"Does that mean you're okay with it? What loyalty you have." Ace's chuckle sounded strained even to himself. "Who am I kidding? You don't even know what's going on. I bet you think we'll go home— I'll bring you back to your home eventually. Not going to happen, buddy."

Stefan did not care. Ace wished he could pretend that it was because the dog consciously comprehended what was happening and had chosen him, but knew that was impossible. His growling stomach kept him from sinking into his thoughts and Stefan nudged his leg impatiently.

"Fine, fine. I'll eat." Ace relented. "I guess you want some too?"

He pulled out some extra meat and Stefan's tail wagged so fast Ace was surprised he did not lift off the ground. The teen sat on the bed and gave the dog a strip of meat, and Stefan settled down, enthusiastically gnawing at it. Ace watched him, nibbling at his own piece and appreciating the familiar warmth of the dog's weight against his leg.

His lips twitched.  _I should have known I wouldn't be able to escape all of you. I guess I still have a Whitebeard Pirate with me after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter than my usual... Hm.


	11. Empathy

Many a pirate claimed their only love was the sea. It was a place of great beauty and mystery, adventure and discoveries, giving many who set out into it a feeling of freedom that could elsewise never be achieved. The ocean was also a monster, untamed and deadly, pretty when it was calm but prone to lashing out to snap up unsuspecting travelers without the slightest warning.

Only the foolish set out to sea without preparation of some kind. Surviving the ocean involved strategy, planning, and accounting for potential problems far out of their control. Danger could pop up out of the depths, storms could form in an instance, usual places to fish could be lifeless and empty. It was not always pirates or Marines that killed the rookies of the sea, though manmade forces could be just as deadly as natural ones.

That was why even the veteran Whitebeard Pirates were careful. That was why— as much as they wished to— the chosen Commanders and Bay did not rush out to chase after their quarry. There were supplies to load, maps to carry, Log Pose and Den Den Mushi to assign, and intel to pass on, and so it was not until dark that they set out to find Portgas D Ace.

As Izo manned the helm and Thatch whipped up a meal, Marco, Bay, and a reluctant Haruta pored over maps in the lower decks. Four small stones meant for such a purpose held down the corners of the unrolled parchment, and a series of lanterns lit the page. Bay had glared fiercely at Marco when she saw him squinting, so another two were added to illuminate the series of lines and names that showed them the way.

"Okay." Haruta said, tracing a random pattern on the map. "If I were an escaping teenaged fire brat, where would I go?"

"Nowhere in particular, unfortunately." Marco said, ignoring his brother's tone. "Ace doesn't know these seas. He has no map, no navigator, no Log Pose to guide him…" He dragged his fingers through his hair. "He's running blind into a monsoon."

"Hopefully not literally." Bay murmured, gaze never lifting from the map laid out in front of them. "But you are correct: Ace is in a place mostly unknown to him, and may have no idea where he is going. I can, however, guess where he is not headed."

Marco inclined his head, silently urging Bay to continue, and the doctor did so, jabbing a rough shape etched in crisp black ink. "Ace knows the direction of the island the Moby Dick is headed to, and will avoid it at all costs. He knows we would ask after him there and could potentially track him, so he'll risk skipping that stop and will try to reach the next closest island." Bay moved her finger west, tapping a nearby island lightly.

"But he won't know that island exists." Haruta objected.

"Maybe, maybe not." Bay demurred.

Her previous words clicked and Marco blinked. "You think he knows the area, yoi?"

"The kid has known many things we did not expect him to." Bay said vaguely. "He's also had an uncanny knack for finding things."

Her blue eyes flicked to Haruta before meeting Marco's. Even without a jerk of her head or a movement of her lips, he clearly saw the message she was trying to convey:  _Later._ The Phoenix let the matter go, trusting Bay to come to him when she felt the time was right. That did not stop the suspicion from stirring in his chest. Did she know something he didn't? Had Ace said something to her? He pushed his questions to the back of his mind and looked back to the map.

Thatch chose that moment to pop his head through the door leading to the kitchen, his usual grin on his face. "Dinner is ready. Sorry it took so long." He apologized.

The chef walked over to the table and squeezed next to Haruta, their shoulders touching. The other Commander stayed where he was, not minding his brother's close proximity.

"Any luck figuring where Ace went?" Thatch asked.

"As far as we can guess, he's headed west, to this island." Marco poked the spot on the map.

Thatch leaned closer, inspecting the island critically before looking up at Marco. "Why here?"

"Because that's where the next closest island is other than our territory and Bay believes Ace knows of it." Marco said.

"Fair enough." Thatch agreed readily. "Want me to tell Izo?"

"We both can, yoi." Marco said, rising. "I'll replace him at the helm."

"Do you want to eat first?" Thatch asked.

"I will later." Marco promised.

The chef's eyes narrowed suspiciously but he said nothing. The two Commanders headed out onto the deck, the warmth of the lower levels giving way to cooler air. Although the temperature was not that cold, Marco shivered slightly, grimacing as the chilled night wind struck his face. Thatch grabbed his arm before he could take a step towards the stern.

"Sooooo, I know your habits." The chef said before Marco could speak. "You're not doing that thing where you skip meals because you're focused on a task or worried, right? Because then I'd have to scold you."

His tone was light but Marco could hear the hint of concern and severity underneath. If the Phoenix gave an answer Thatch did not like — verbal or otherwise— he'd find himself with a cheerful, unyielding shadow until the chef believed he was taking care of himself. Thatch would not get in his way, would not try to tear Marco from whatever task had taken his full attention, but would remain a constant, hovering presence until the Phoenix took a hint and remembered that he was supposed to do things like eat and sleep. Thatch was very good at seeing the signs of Marco running himself ragged, often long before the Phoenix even knew he was headed down that path. And if Marco took the hint and ignored it, well then the chef got a little  _insistent_.

"I promise I'll eat dinner." Marco said, knowing what the chef wanted to hear.

"Once we talk to Izo I'll bring it out." Thatch decided for him. He raised an eyebrow. "And if I come back to find food on your plate, I'll bring out Bay."

That startled a not-quite mirthful laugh out of the Phoenix. "You're already threatening that, yoi?"

"Yep." Thatch said, popping the 'p'. "She's here, so I might as well use her. Sometimes it's the only way to get you to listen, bird-brain."

The term— said with endearment instead of as an insult— reminded Marco of their quest. "You pick that up from Ace?" he asked with a chuckle.

Thatch waved a finger. "You should know better. He probably picked it up from me." His waving finger darted forward, jabbing Marco in the chest. "You will eat."

"I will eat." Marco promised.

Thatch nodded and the two headed to Izo. The okama nodded as they approached, hair neatly in place despite the slight wind. Marco scanned him for signs that he was cold or uncomfortable, but he looked as collected as ever. Even his cheeks were unflushed from the chill.

"Is it time to switch already?" Izo asked.

"Yes. Dinner's ready. And Marco will eat out here." Thatch said.

"I already agreed that I would." Marco sighed, rolling his eyes.

Izo relinquished the wheel to the Phoenix, brushing his hands down his kimono. "Did you have any revelations about the whereabouts of the child?"

"Bay believes he will avoid Oyaji's island and head to the next island." Marco informed him.

"That makes sense." Izo said after a moment's thought. "He would hate to go to a place where the locals would willingly tell us he passed through there." He frowned and crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his forearm. "Where is it located? I do not clearly recall."

"It's a few days to the west." Thatch said.

"West?" Izo frowned. "Isn't there supposedly a slave ship that way? I saw it in the latest reports."

Silence fell, broken only by the waves and wind. Even in the darkness, Marco could see Thatch's face drain of color. The Phoenix spoke before the chef could. "Thatch, its unlikely Ace will run into them—"

"Yes he will." Thatch said.

"No, you're overreacting—"

"I don't think I am."

"Yes, you are—"

"See, here's the thing. Ace's middle initial isn't 'D'. It's T. Stands for Trouble. With a  _capital_."

"Thatch—"

"That kid is a  _magnet_ for danger. If there is a bad thing within a hundred leagues of him, it will find him."

"For goodness—"

" _Slavers_  will find him. He's injured. He doesn't know where he's going. With his luck he's going to stumble on them and they'll see he's just a  _kid_ , an easy target, and God  _dammit_  we're supposed to keep him safe from things like that—!"

" _Thatch!_ " Marco snapped. "Calm. Down."

Thatch subconsciously reacted to the order in his tone and clamped his mouth shut. His eyes failed to lose their distressed light, and Marco expelled his ire— and the irrational fear that gripped his gut when Izo said 'slave ship'— with a breath. When he spoke again, he was calmer, controlled. As he should be.

"You're fretting over nothing. The seas are wide. It is highly unlikely Ace will come across the slave ship that is  _rumored_  to be in nearby waters." He emphasized that the ship's existence was not confirmed in the slightest.

"I know. I  _know_." Thatch repeated. "But…" His agonized eyes met Marco's stern ones. "Ace was already captured once, Marco."

The Phoenix refrained from wincing. "We don't know that for certain, yoi." He said steadily. "Ace has proven himself to be resourceful. If he does manage to come upon the slave ship—  _which may not be there_ — I'm certain he will find a way out of the situation. He can take care of himself."

"Not all the time. That's why we're out here." Thatch reminded him pointedly.

Marco hummed vaguely, looking to Izo. "Head inside and eat. Tell Haruta his shift is after mine. We should be able to sail a few more hours tonight."

"Understood." Izo said.

The okama grasped Thatch's arm and firmly guided him back inside. The chef hesitated a bit but relaxed, releasing a low sigh. Then he straightened and called to Marco as he was dragged inside. "I'll bring your food!"

"I know, moron!" Marco called back irritably.

He heard Thatch laugh before the door shut, cutting him off from his brothers. Marco looked up at the starry sky, briefly wondering who else was out there, gazing upon the same stars as he. Then he shook himself and gripped the helm firmly, bracing himself against the cold.

OPOPOPOPOP

Ace startled awake. Though his body remained lax and at ease, his mind jolted into consciousness, abuzz with panic even as he forced himself to appear unaware. He was laying in an odd position against something hard, the clear scent of ocean air tickling his nose, and it was only that— and his freed hands— that made him risk opening his eyes to take in his surroundings.

He was leaning against the steering wheel of a boat, a small one. Had he fallen asleep here? The thought made his heart sink into his shoes. Since he was neither bound and surrounded by enemies nor facing an agitated and concerned family member, that meant… It meant…

_I failed again._

Ace took a shuddering breath, and forced himself onto his feet. He ignored the tiredness draining the energy from his muscles and the despair threatening to throttle him, shoving both deep into the back of his mind where they could stew until they inevitably overcame him. He'd like to think he was on a Whitebeard-sanctioned mission but knew better than to hope. He never pushed himself to exhaustion on normal missions, he never woke against the helm when someone was still around to care, and  _oh Gods_  he couldn't even remember  _what had happened_  this time, or who he was headed to kill.

He glanced up at the open sails, trying to remember. The wind would have carried him along even while he was oblivious to the world. Was he far off track? He hated missing his target by  _that much_ , forcing him to stay longer in a world without those he had lost. Had he been present when they all died this time? Or had he heard of their deaths through the news, like he so often had before?

_He found out Luffy died through the newspaper._

_Ace had been laughing at Thatch's stunned face, his chortles loud and jubilant as the chef futilely tried to wipe off the marker etched around his eyes. Haruta laughed with him even as he bolted past Vista and out the door to escape the chef's inevitable wrath. Ace had smiled at the Fifth Division Commander, but the grin died in an instant when he saw Vista's solemn face and teary eyes._

" _Ace…" Vista whispered, gripping a newspaper with both hands._

_Ace gently took the newspaper from him and set it on the table, smoothing out the crinkles._

_His little brother's body was on full display on the front page._

_Ace did not rage or cry._

_He did not collapse or sink into a stupor._

_Instead he stoically read the article, taking in every detail._

_He read about the time._

_He read about the place._

_He read about the other casualties— the Straw Hats all died together this loop. Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Chopper, Robin— all gone, only remaining as a cliffnote in the tale of the son of Dragon's death._

_He read about the murderer._

_Ace did not ignite in fury as the World Government praised the murderer for killing the son of the Revolutionary Dragon._

_He did not recoil when he read the gruesome details of his brother's demise._

_He did not shed a tear as he comprehended that Luffy was gone gone_ _**gone** _ _again._

_He picked up the paper from the tabletop, idly noticing the hall was silent. That everyone was looking at him, waiting for a reaction, ready to console him and swear vengeance or whatever he wished._

_He did not want their help._

_He did not need their help._

_It wasn't arrogance. He knew the future. He knew his goal. He had done it before._

" _I'm going on a mission, Oyaji." Ace said stoically._

_Whitebeard let him go._

_Whitebeard tried to get Marco to tail him._

_Ace lost the Phoenix after a couple days— easily, too easily, he knew all of the Phoenix's patterns and tricks by now._

_Then Ace planned._

_Ace hunted._

_Ace found him._

_There was no battle._

_His brother's murderer deserved no such thing_.

_Crocodile turned to glass at his touch, all except his eyes. Eyes that went wide with pain and agony as Ace punched him through the heart with a superheated fist, gaze never breaking away as the life and the pain— Had Luffy felt pain as his lower half was turned to arid dust? He had. Ace knew it. Ace_   _ **hated**_ _it. He wasn't there he wasn't there_ _ **HE WASN'T THERE TO SAVE**_ _— faded from the Warlord's cruel features._

_In a previous life, Ace would have burned the site of Luffy and the Straw Hats' deaths to the ground. Not anymore. It would be a waste of energy._

_But not time._

_He had all the time in the world, after all._

_And yet his time was so limited._

_It didn't matter anyway._

_Nothing mattered in this loop anymore._

_Luffy was dead._

_Ace was still alive._

_But this life would certainly not be his last._

Ace dragged himself out of the memory, wiping his palm over his sweaty face. He knew the memory was not a recent one, a fact that heartened and infuriated him all the same. He still didn't recall how it happened. Since he didn't know the circumstances, he'd have to go through the default mission until he remembered.

Ace had lists and plans. Lists of events. Plans for how to save people. Lists of people he would kill, where, and when. It was rarely difficult for him to locate someone. He had intelligence people like CP0 and the Revolutionaries would kill and die for. Locations. Allies. Powers. Moles. If he wanted to, he could make an information network using nothing but his previous timelines and statistics.

Through trial and error he had devised multiple courses of action to take in order to deal with each threat and failure, even if he was uncertain what the threat or failure was. At times, his memory was his worst enemy—

No, not his worst enemy.  _Never_  his worst enemy. That title belonged only to the bastards that had taken his family this time, that had snuffed out their lives and left Ace with another hole in his heart and the bitter abyss of failure that was threatening to swallow him whole—

A bark yanked him out of the darkness, depositing him back into his body. Ace blinked uncomprehendingly at Stefan, who bounded up to him and gave another, cheerful yip. The dog paced back and forth in front of him and tipped his head, whining in confusion.

_Stefan is…?_

Ace remembered where, when, and what timeline he was in.

"They're  _alive_."

He crumpled to the deck, fingers gripping his hair as a hysterical laugh ripped past his lips. He was not alone, on this small ship, wearing himself out because he needed to chase down a murderer. He was alone, on this small ship, wearing himself out because he was trying to outrun his well-meaning and ignorant family.

_Not my family. Not this time. Not ever._

Stefan nudged his face, licking his wet cheek, and Ace gave a watery laugh. He stood up, wiping at his eyes, and breathed, counting to eighty. Once the shaking stopped and his vision stopped wavering, he looked at Stefan.

"Sorry I conked out on you." He apologized. "I'm surprised you didn't jump on me to wake me up."

Stefan tipped his head innocently.

Ace chuckled. "You were thinking about it, weren't you? Don't pretend." He glanced back out the door, at the sun. "I must not have been out very long. Good. I need to stay ahead."

Stefan snorted. If Ace didn't know better, he'd swear the dog was glaring at him disapprovingly.

Ace pinned him with a look. "How very Marco-like of you. I'll sleep when I know the Whitebeards aren't on my tail."

Stefan nudged him in the back of the knee. Ace barely staggered, though the move did unbalance him slightly.

The teen scowled at the dog. "It's too early in the trip for you to start this. If I smack my head on the floor and get knocked out, your food is going to be even later. Don't you know that?"

Stefan ignored him and trotted into the lower deck, sitting next to the cabinet that held their stash of food. If Ace weren't aware the dog was trained not to go into food storage and steal it, he might be worried. The fire-user knelt and opened the cabinet, making a note to buy a lock just in case.

He handed Stefan some meat, took a piece for himself, and headed back out to the steering wheel. The dog followed him and settled next to his leg, not laying on his foot but close enough that his fur brushed against Ace's calf. He didn't mind. It was nice to have something warm and alive there to remind him everyone wasn't dead for once.

_What would I have done if Stefan weren't here?_

Ace pushed such thoughts from his mind even though he knew the answer.

He would have hunted.

Stefan finished his meal and decided to thank Ace by giving him a slobbery kiss. The fire-user wrinkled his nose and pushed the dog away from himself— and the piece of meat still in his hand.

"Nice try."

Stefan rolled onto his back and wiggled.

"That doesn't work with Marco, it's not going to work with me." Ace informed him. He shoved the rest of the meat into his mouth and looked at the clear blue sky. "How long do you think this'll keep up? I hate having to face a storm in these boats."

Stefan growled.

"And you hate thunder, don't you buddy?" Ace reminisced. He patted Stefan on the head. "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

Stefan licked him again, nuzzled him, and stayed present and there and  _solid_  as if to say ' _You aren't alone. I'm here. You're okay.'_  as a thank you—

Ace shoved him back down, rolling his eyes. "I'll try to, anyway. I'd hate for you to get hurt while you're with me."

His guilt and doubts tripped over themselves as they reentered his waking thoughts, but Stefan's nuzzle—  _warm alive safe fine fine fine_ _ **breathe**_ — pulled him out of his funk before it could drown him. Sinking would only distract him and might allow the Whitebeards to catch up. Besides, Stefan needed him to be as stable as possible. He needed to be present in the present, not despairing about the mistakes of the past.

_He's relying on me to have enough awareness to feed him and bathe him and make sure he's not sick._

_I have a living thing here I need to take care of and keep alive._

… _Well, shit._

"You're really going to regret coming with me, buddy." Ace murmured as he absently stroked Stefan's head. "I have problems. I forget things, freak out, sink into my own head when it becomes too much…" He sighed. "I'll try not to let you down too, I guess."

Stefan pressed against him, tucking his tail and lowering his head. His chest vibrated as he rumbled lowly, the sound not quite a growl or a whimper. Ace could not say whether it was the sound or the contact that made something in him ease and his lips twitched, inching up into what the unaware might call a smirk.

"Thanks, buddy."

Stefan barked once, tail wagging. Ace blinked.

"I'm holding a conversation with a dog like he understands what I'm saying." He realized.

Then he shrugged. He'd done crazier things.


	12. And a Butterfly Falls Down

"Bay?"

Marco called the doctor's name as he poked his head through yet  _another_  doorway. Seeing nothing but an empty room, he sighed and closed the door, irritation rising. The vessel they were on was not even that big. It should  _not_  be difficult to find Bay. And yet here he was, searching for her for nearly twenty minutes at this point. The Phoenix agitatedly knocked on the next door which opened to a mostly-empty room but predictably received no answer.

Knowing better than to move on without checking— Bay was just as bad as him when it came to responding to knocks on the door when she was doing something— he opened it, peering inside. His knowledge of his sister proved to be correct. Bay sat at a desk in the corner, looking down at something as she leaned her head on her palm. Her blue eyes did not move towards him but she waved vaguely, focusing on whatever task had caught her attention.

"Hey, Marco." She greeted. "I didn't hear you."

Marco's eye twitched. "I've been looking for you for half an hour, yoi. What if there was an emergency?"

"Don't give me that. You'd be stampeding around like a panicked chicken if there was." she chided distractedly, the words bouncing off her like they'd never been uttered. "Give me a sec and I'll give you my full attention, dear sir."

Marco ignored her sass and leaned in to look over her shoulder. She was writing in what appeared to be a journal. Bay flipped the cover over her hand, marking her page while simultaneously hiding it from view, and glared at him. The Phoenix smiled apologetically and straightened, backing away. Satisfied, Bay opened the journal again and continued to write.

"I didn't know you kept a diary, yoi." Marco commented.

"I don't." Bay said matter-of-factly.

Marco blinked. "Then what are you doing?"

Bay finished her note with a flourish and set her pen down. "I'm writing down everything I know about Ace."

"Why, yoi?"

"To try to figure him out." Bay gently closed the cover to the journal and tucked it away. "I want to keep track so I remember everything. We both know we're not going to just let him go once we find him, and I'd like to help him recover from whatever haunts him."

"Have you had any luck with our fiery enigma?" Marco asked rhetorically.

"Kind of." Bay said. "He may try to be closed off and mysterious but he's already let some things slip."

That caught Marco's attention. "Like what?"

Bay eyed him critically.

Marco raised his hands defensively. "If it is a matter of patient confidentiality you do not need to tell me."

"It's not." Bay assured him. "I just have a hypothesis if you'd like to hear it. It's rather non-medical but considering what we deal with every day I don't think it's farfetched."

Marco nodded encouragingly. "I'm open to anything at this point. Go on, yoi."

Bay drummed her fingers on the desk, staring just past Marco's shoulder. "Right after Ace woke up after his breakdown, he and I had an…  _interesting_  conversation. I asked Ace what he wanted and he said 'For you to let me go and forget about me.' I asked him why and he said 'Because if I stay you'll die.' I asked if he truly believed that. He said 'I  _know_  it.' I admit I was a little annoyed by then, so I sarcastically asked if he could see the future…" Bay smiled humorlessly at Marco. "He said,  _'Well, I wouldn't say that.'_ "

Marco slowly processed her words. "What does that mean?"

"My best guesses? Either he has some special type of intel about a threat to us, or he  _can_  see the future somehow." Bay said bluntly. "And I'm not talking about the parlor tricks Katakuri can do. I'm talking about days, months, maybe even  _years_  of foresight."

"That's imposs—" Marco cut himself off before he could voice his instinctive skepticism.

Every pirate worth their salt in the New World— especially on Whitebeard's crew— was aware that Observation Haki could be trained to a point where its user could 'see' a few seconds into the future. Big Mom's Commander, Katakuri was living proof of that. But what Bay implied was more than having a brief premonition of events.

"What are you saying?" he asked even though he already suspected the answer.

"I think Ace had premonitions of us. More specifically, he had visions of us dying." She tipped her head thoughtfully. "But maybe not just that. When he woke up in the infirmary that first time, he  _recognized_  me. He pretended he didn't but I saw it. He also knows things he shouldn't, like that special move of yours. It's possible that the visions are divergent somehow, and whenever he changes something, he sees the effect that change has." Bay gave him a mirthless smirk. "Perhaps some things  _refused_  to change and someone always dies. Think of it as an endless loop. That's why Ace was so insistent on leaving. He thinks it's the only way to prevent our deaths."

Unbidden, memories of Ace's freak-out on the Moby Dick came to Marco's mind.

" _Everyone I love dies! Over and over and over! And don't you fucking say that you won't."_

" _I won't let you in. If I do you'll die."_

_He sounded so_ _ **certain**_ _about that. And if he did have visions of us dying again and again, no wonder he's so unstable…_  Marco shook those thoughts away.

"Isn't that a bit of a reach…?" he asked, though the protest sounded weak even to himself.

Bay shot him an unimpressed look. "Marco, we live in a world where a disgusting fruit gives people powers. You turn into a giant mythical bird. We've seen and heard of stranger things than someone foreseeing people's deaths."

Marco conceded to her point. "Let's say you're right and he  _has_  seen the future. What do we do with this?"

"For now, nothing." Bay said. "I may be wrong and Ace's issues have nothing to do with the future and spawn from old survivor's guilt and paranoia. Or I may be right and the poor kid has to deal with constantly trying to save the people in his visions. Or maybe it's something else entirely. Regardless, he's a crafty one. He might know the area a bit more thoroughly than we assumed."

Marco grimaced. "You think he'll be able to avoid us, yoi."

"Maybe." Bay said evasively. "The kid is a lot more well-informed about the New World than we give him credit for." She stood up and gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

Marco made to exit the room first when a thought stopped him in place. He turned back to Bay, lips pulling downward as a terrible tightness encompassed his chest. "You do realize that if your theory is right, a large portion of our family is possibly going to  _die_  in the near-future?"

Almost too quickly to spot, a haunted look flashed over Bay's face.

"Yes." She said flatly. "I know."

OPOPOPOPOP

With a new day, no new challenges came to the isolated, small ship as it sailed across the endless sea. If Ace had not learned to appreciate peace long ago, he might be bored. As it was, half of him enjoyed the sun and the sea and the wind, while another part waited for something to inevitably go wrong.

Ace was good at avoiding trouble when he knew it was coming, but he was now in uncharted waters, and with his luck trouble would come knocking relatively soon. If he were honest with himself, the fire Logia secretly hoped he would run into some upstart pirates or a low-threat Marine vessel, just so he could let off some steam. The creeping realization of what he was doing and what he was lost were becoming harder to ignore, and destroying things would be a comparatively less destructive way of dealing with his problems. The alternative involved him turning those destructive habits inward and onto himself and he did not want to do that this time.

He had to function for Stefan.

The dog was a lifesaver. Probably not literally— yet— but he managed to keep Ace's head above water for longer than he thought possible. Stefan's presence reminded the teen that he needed to eat, that he needed to keep sailing, and that he could not lay in bed all day, wonder why he couldn't just die, and futilely hope that his actions had magically changed his situation so he'd stay dead if he jumped off the ship. Stuff like that.

Relatively speaking, today was a good day. Ace fell asleep in a bed, woke up in the bed instead of somewhere else, and actually ate a good portion of food without Stefan staring at him with sad eyes. The teen knew the dog was not actually guilt-tripping him into eating but sometimes if felt like he knew that Ace was considering going without and took it as a personal offense. Stefan had probably spent too much time around Thatch and picked up his habits. The chef always did pull out the puppy-dog eyes when Ace refused food.

Ace ignored the familiar constriction in his throat and eyed the empty sea around him hopefully. Despite his relatively stable mood, he was antsy. He was sailing and he had a goal, yet he felt like he was accomplishing nothing. He was so used to having to go save this person, or stop this person, or prevent this thing from happening… and now he was not doing any of those things. Thus the desire for some action.

_Maybe there's a Marine ship nearby that I can 'accidentally' run into. Unless it's Gramps. Nah, that's unlikely. He shouldn't be near this area now. I hope not, anyway. I don't want him trying to kill Whitebeard again._

Unlike Luffy, Garp did not take Ace's new attitude well. Not if the Logia managed to meet him now, anyway. As far as Garp was aware, the time period was much too short for Ace to become so unstable and jaded, and when the Marine found out Whitebeard had captured and been holding his grandson on their ship until he agreed to join them…

Needless to say, many assumptions had been made that resulted in Garp seeking revenge for Ace's torture, breaking, and brainwashing. Those were such fun loops. Not.

Ace cursorily scanned the sea again, and did a double-take, gaze locking on a growing spot in the distance. Another ship was approaching, carving through the waves with ease. Ace watched it curiously, hand slightly raised in case he needed to burn it to kindling. If the crew thought his little boat would make good target practice, they'd be in for a nasty surprise. Stefan barked insistently, ears flat as he growled in the back of his throat.

Ace patted his head. "I know. I see it, buddy."

The Logia's gaze flicked upward to the mast of the other vessel and he noticed the lack of a flag or type of distinguishable feature. Upon first glance, it looked average to an almost ludicrous degree, its plainness enough to make any shipwright worth their salt cry tears of despair. A second, more thorough glance revealed writing on the sail. The ship was a proud affiliate of the "Public Employment Shipping Operation." Ace knew the company well. They were a subsidiary of the Public Employment Security Office.

Also known as slave traders.

"Go below deck and stay there, Stefan." Ace commanded.

The dog did as he asked without a peep, leaving the teenager alone.

Ace shut his eyes.  _Don't do it. Even if I save them now, the slaves will be right back in the same situation when everything resets. Unless I interfere every single loop from here on out, they won't be rescued. I might not even remember them by the time I restart._

Despite himself, his sight lowered to the bottom of the ship, where he knew dozens, if not hundreds of souls were about to be sold into servitude. Even if Marines came across the ship, they would never free the 'merchandise' within. The 'Public Employment Shipping Operation' and 'Public Employment Security Office' were legit, legal businesses as far as they were concerned, so Ace doubted they would even think to investigate.

If a bedraggled man stumbled onto the deck and screamed for help, well, he was a stowaway they had found in their food supplies. Most Marines would turn the other cheek with little prompting, and those that had any suspicions would be chased away by indignant, 'honest' businessmen. Why waste time and insult fragile egos by looking at the merchandise of such a humanitarian company? Even if someone did manage to look, the slavers would have decoy goods to show off, their real products hidden beneath another layer of wood.

Ace knew this because he had lived through it more than once. The first few times were when a Celestial Dragon decided the son of Roger was a trophy to flaunt around— the man had not lived to enjoy his prize for long— but later on Ace allowed himself to be captured in order to try to track down a captured Luffy. Thankfully, that was not necessary anymore since he now had the locations of all the auctions memorized.

_I was able to save Luffy before he was sold. These people have no chance._  Ace grimaced.  _Stop it. I can't save them. There's no point._

All Ace had to do was let out a burst of flame to propel his little boat and sail away. Turn his back and leave those people to their fates. Yet apparently he was still capable of empathy, because his body refused to do what his mind thought was logical. The ship was much closer now, close enough that he could see people and they could definitely see him.

Ace cursed his bleeding heart.  _I'm here. I might as well do something._

Someone on the deck hailed him. "Hello there!"

Ace squinted at the speaker, who appeared to be a middle-aged man with a friendly smile. He was likely one of the people who lured their targets in, putting them at ease before striking. The Logia noted the larger, much more menacing man lingering nearby where he thought Ace could not see him. That guy was definitely the muscle.

None of the slavers should be a problem. A majority of their kind were cowards at heart and preyed on the helpless, and even if one managed to be unusually strong and hunted stronger prey, they would not be ready for Ace. He could not risk using his powers much and burning up the ship, but that would just make it more of a challenge. That was good. He had a lot of pent-up anger he needed to expel.

All these thoughts went through Ace's head in a second, and he waved shyly right on cue. "Hello."

"You okay, lad? What are you doing in these seas by yourself?" the slaver asked, tone still friendly.

Ace was too used to sleazier men to feel the slightest bit of uneasy disgust. Instead he bobbed his head and imagined planting his fist in the man's face. "I'm good. And I'm uh— not really doing anything, really." Slight shift of his weight to the other foot. Avoid eye contact. Personality: Hesitant, young, naïve. A perfect target.

The man studied him, and Ace knew his evasive answer had narrowed down what the man thought he could be. The teen was obviously too young and unconfident to be a powerful pirate or something. "How old are you, lad?" one slaver asked casually.

Ace let his body twitch slightly. He straightened his spine as if he was trying to appear taller. He widened his grey eyes just a little, accentuating the youthfulness of his face. "S-Seventeen." His cracking tone conveyed an awkward lie. Perfect. They'd think he was younger now, especially with his freckles.

The slaver nodded. "Right. Are your parents okay with you sailing alone?"

Ace made a show of looking down, scuffing his foot on the ground. "Don't got any parents."

He could see the cracks in the slaver's mask now. The man was good, but his smile was too close to a gleeful smirk and his eyes glittered a little too happily when he realized he'd found a teen no one would miss. "You know, you look like you could use a meal. How about you come up here? It sounds like you have a real good story to tell."

"Okay." Ace agreed with all the clueless eagerness of a kid who did not know the cruelty of the world.

He clambered awkwardly up the ladder that was lowered to him, every movement screaming 'unexperienced'. He heard a few of the men chuckle and smirked inwardly.  _This is going to be fun._

As soon as his feet were on the deck, the muscle made a grab for him. With a final reminder that he could not burn the ship down, Ace let go.

The world faded into a vague cacophony of laughs and screams, colors blurring into flashes of darkness and red. A small part of Ace managed to keep his cackles soft and quiet, because he did not want the slaves below to hear and fear the worst, but the rest of him floated in the freedom of battle, striking without thought or mercy. This was not a fight. This was Ace's way of violently venting, with the slavers as his living punching bags.

After a battle like this long, long ago, Thatch had described Ace when he was in this state, voice tinged with a mixture of awe and slight fear. Apparently, Ace smiled wide and laughed loud as he fought, with blank grey eyes that showed nothing at all. It was almost like he was meditating or doing a kata instead of tearing through his enemies without awareness or remorse. Ace never told that Thatch the mindless chaos gave him a sense of peace. Because even though there was blood on his hands, the blood was of their enemies, and they'd be back again next time.

Nothing mattered in the end, so Ace could be as ruthless and unremorseful as he needed to be.

Like a master rising from deep meditation, Ace exhaled and returned to his body. He noted that he was deeper in the ship, and had a bloody dagger in his hand. The Logia wiped it off on a fallen slaver's shirt before sheathing it, quickly scanning the mass of bodies around him. He noticed the burns on a few of their hands and comprehended they must have attempted to grab him. Their mistake.

Ace looked down at his own bloodstained hands and turned to flame, burning it away. He'd somehow managed to avoid getting any of it on his blue shirt, for which he was grateful. He did not want to run the last thing Izo gave him.

Ace quickly aborted that line of thought and walked purposely towards the captain's quarters, ignoring the bodies in the hall. None of them were alive, so they were not a threat anymore. Once he might have felt guilt for their deaths but now he knew better. They all knowingly worked for slavers and transported innocent people into captivity. Ace had no sympathy for them.

The Logia strode into the captain's cabin, taking a moment to sneer at the sleeping Den Den in the corner. That would be how he contacted his employer. Ace paused for a moment, tempted to see if it would ring so he could tell the bastard his vile excuses for human beings were dead… but the head honcho was not his concern. Unless it was dear old Doffy, of course. Then Ace would happily go to see him.

Ace spotted a ring of keys hanging by the door and snatched them up, leaving the empty cabin behind. He descended to a lower level filled with crates and, kicked them aside, searching for the trapdoor he knew existed. A box filled with fake Log Proses toppled over and Ace eyed the rug beneath it with distaste.

_Got it._

Ace crouched and yanked the rug aside, revealing the trapdoor. He tried a few keys, counting his breaths to keep himself from ripping the door off its hinges when the first few did not work. He did not want to frighten the people below more than they already were. Finally, a key slid into the lock and turned, and Ace  _carefully_  pulled the trapdoor aside.

As light from the open door illuminated a sliver of the room, many thin frames shrank back, pressing against the walls in the futile hopes that they could vanish into the shadows. Gaunt, frightened faces looked up at Ace. Men and women, adults and children, Fishmen, humans, and even a few Minks were all in chains or cages, some tied up hand and foot while others could only sit behind metal bars, their hands unbound but unable to get free.

Ace was not a gentle person by nature. Fire was meant to destroy, not nurture, and he could only manage to show his softer side around those he already knew. He could damn well try though, because these people had been scared enough. He descended through the trapdoor, feet thudding loudly in the silence. Some of the slaves recoiled away from him, but Ace raised his hands in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture.

"Don't worry, I'm a friend." He said, using the soft voice he implemented whenever he talked to a frightened Luffy. "I'm going to get you out of here."

The words did not feel exactly right. Maybe he should have said something else beforehand, but  _dammit_  dealing with hurt strangers was not Ace's forte. He simply walked to the closest cage and unlocked it. The slave quarters were even worse up close, filthy and cramped in a way that made his skin crawl, but Ace forced his anger deep within his heart as he knelt in front of the closest slave— a young woman.

She was one of the luckier ones who was imprisoned only by one manacle, and could thus be freed both quickly and with minimal contact, while simultaneously freeing only one person. That was the point, as cruel as it was, because Ace needed them to see he meant to help them before he risked freeing a group. They did not trust him or his motives yet. But they would. Ace had done this song and dance before.

That did not prevent the slight twinge of empathy as he looked at the woman. She stared back at him, eyes wild with fear, and the look reminded him of a wounded animal. Some of his discomfort eased and the little smile he gave was almost natural.

"It's okay." He soothed, before holding out his hand. "May I?"

The woman hesitated, then cautiously placed her manacled wrist in his palm. Ace quickly unlocked the cuff and it fell to the floor with a thunderous thud. The woman stared at it, then her scarred wrist, and back again. Then she burst into tears and threw her arms around the teen. If Ace had not been expecting it he might have stiffened or lashed out, but thankfully he was anticipating the reaction, so he merely patted her shoulder.

Realization rippled through the other slaves like a shockwave. Ace winced at the onslaught of noise, of joyful shouts, relieved sobs, or pleas for them to be freed next. He took a key from the key ring and handed it to the woman.

"Could you find where this one works and release them, please?" He asked.

She wiped at her eyes and nodded before doing as he requested. Ace turned to the next slave in line, a Fishman who looked at him hopefully. The teen gave him a reassuring smile— easier this time— and unlocked his manacles before giving him another key. The process repeated, with each of the calmer slaves receiving a key to free others, and soon enough the lonely clatter of falling metal became a symphony as many fell at once.

Some of the slaves thanked Ace, others hugged him or sobbed— or both— but some simply stared into the distance or at their hands, brow furrowed with fear or disbelief. Ace quietly asked those around them to watch over them, and another slave would inevitably step up, keeping a careful eye on the injured and those that had no idea what to do with themselves.

Ace was unsurprised that none of the freed slaves had left the room yet, instead lingering under the trapdoor and eying it like a minefield. The fire-user pulled one of the stronger-looking men— a sailor if he was not mistaken— aside.

"The slavers are all dead." He informed him softly. "Can you take some of the others and clean up before the rest go above deck?"

The sailor blinked. "You mean your crew isn't taking care of it?"

Ace kept his expression casual. "I'm by myself."

"You took them out  _alone_?" the sailor spluttered. His gaze roamed up and down Ace's teenaged frame. "But— you're just…" He shook himself and straightened, nodding his head. "I'll help."

Ace let him go, trusting him to have a steady head and gather those with a similar temperament. The other prisoners watched the group leave but made no move to follow, remaining where they were through intuition, habit, or fear of the unknown. By the time the final manacle was unlocked and fell to the floor, the sailor returned, peering down through the trapdoor.

"We're good. They're gone." He said briefly.

The atmosphere in the prison shifted and shocked murmurs reached Ace's ears.

"They're really dead?"

"I can't believe this."

"Am I dreaming?"

None of them moved towards the trapped door, their confusion and disbelief hanging over them like a cloud. Ace took the initiative and looked to one of the women. She glanced back hesitantly, gaze darting between him and the door.

"It's okay." Ace said for what felt like the thousandth time today. "You're free."

The woman took a breath and walked to the ladder, the others' eyes following her every step. To complete silence, she climbed out of the prison, those below waiting with bated breath for some sign that it was a trick. Joyful, breathy laughter reached their ears, laughter that Ace understood completely. The rest of the former slaves rushed for the ladder, clamoring around it and shoving each other in their hurry. Ace scooped up a small child that had been dragged along by the mob, instinctively setting him on his hip.

"Careful!  _Careful!_ " he shouted. "One at a time, please!"

A majority of the mob calmed, leaving those that were still desperate to shove their way to the front and up the ladder. Although a few glares were passed at them, the others let them leave their prison. With the outer parts of the cells now clear, Ace looked to those that lingered in the back, grimacing as he spotted feeble bodies still on the floor. A man was hurrying from person to person, giving instructions before moving on, and those who had been with the injured loyally stayed at their side instead of joining the line to escape.

Ace handed the small boy to a younger teenager and approached the man— a doctor, if he had to guess— who knelt beside a tiny girl. The teen carefully smothered the anger that bubbled in his gut at the girl's wounds. She'd clearly been whipped, red gashes stretching across her small back.

"Can she be moved?" Ace asked.

"Yes." The doctor barely looked Ace's way, focusing on his patient. "I need to get her to the medical bay but…" The man shot a weary look in the direction of the crowded ladder before turning back to the girl.

Ace watched her chest rise and fall shallowly, her skin pale and her wounded puffy with infection. There was no doubt in his mind that she didn't survive any other loop. He looked to the others that stayed with the injured. "Pick the wounded up, please."

A few twitched nervously, but they did as he commanded, following behind as they supported or carried those that could not support themselves.

"Move it! Injured coming through." Ace said in a loud clear voice.

Ace strode through the throng of people around the ladder and they parted like waves around a stone, letting him and those that followed him through. Some might be startled by their compliance and believe that it was their conditioning that made them get out of his way, but Ace was unashamed to admit that a small, controlled burst of Conqueror's Haki was what made them fall back without question. Thatch would make a joke about Ace exuding a 'commanding aura' yet that was exactly what he was doing. Time was of the essence and he did not want to waste time arguing.

That did not stop the remaining freed slaves from eying the trapdoor longingly as the injured were carefully lifted out. As soon as the final, limping man was hoisted upward the mob returned, though less chaotic than before. The realization that all of them would eventually escape this hellhole was dawning upon even the most confused slave, and many were in tears as they clambered out.

After one, final sweep of the prison— and wishing he could burn the whole place to ashes— Ace went out last. A majority of the more timid slaves lingered in the next level, coaxed out of their cages but too afraid to go any further. Ace left them to other, more emotional people who could better convey comfort and empathy and headed up to the deck. He passed no bodies or pools of blood on the way, and a glance at the sun showed hours had gone by without him noticing.

The sailor waved to him from by the railing. "Is this your boat?"

"Yep." Ace said. "Give me a second."

He jumped over the railing— ignoring the startled yelps that followed him— and landed neatly on his vessel, using a small burst of flame to slow his descent. Ace whistled and Stefan raced from the cabin, tail wagging madly as he nuzzled the Logia's leg.

Ace patted his head. "Sorry, buddy. That took longer than I thought. To make it up to you, I have some new people for you to meet. Be gentle like the good boy you are, okay?"

Stefan yipped softly and approached the ladder climbing up it with ease. Ace watched his fluffy tail disappear, and a few laughs and happy squeals reached his ears. Smiling, he pulled himself back on board and was unsurprised to see Stefan surrounded by children.

"Puppy!" one little boy laughed.

He rubbed his mangled, dirty hair on the dog's flank. Stefan did not mind, and licked the kid's nose, eliciting a giggle from him. More and more of the slave's crept onto the deck, and Ace was pleased to see many of them relax upon spotting the dog. Others lingered near the cabin or railings, shooting Ace, the ocean, and even the sky uncertain looks. Ace should reassure them but he did not know how other than simply telling them they were free. Some believed him, others did not, and others did not seem to even realize he had spoken.

Ace's ability to deal with this was draining fast but he held on just a little longer, pulling a few of the more proactive people aside. They were the ones who insisted others get cleaned up or eat, checked on the wounded, or handed out blankets and new clothes, taking the tears and thanks they got in return in stride. Looking at each of them— human, Fishman, and Mink alike— Ace saw a similar determination in their eyes, their strength shining through after weeks, months, maybe even years of hardship. If he were less emotionally expended, he might find it heartening.

"Has anyone done a head count?" he asked.

A woman raised her hand— the same one he had first freed. "I have. There are one hundred-twenty six of us."

"How many have major injuries?"

"The doctor told me ten." One of the Fishman said after a nervous pause.

"Minor injuries?"

"Well, everybody's hungry." He reported obviously. "And a majority of us have cuts of some kind." He raised his wrists, showing off the tender flesh there.

"We'll have to have the doctor look over everyone." Ace decided. "Is he the only one here?"

"Yeah. Other than the slavers'." a bearded man spat heatedly. "Bastard cut us up more than he healed us. Doc tried to help us best he could, though." Brown eyes glinted as they locked with Ace's grey. "Bastard dead?"

"Yes." Ace said simply.

The man nodded sharply. "Good."

"Are you a Revolutionary?" an older man interjected. "Is that why you saved us?"

Ace shook his head. "No. I just happened to be here."

They accepted his answer without bitterness, glad he had chosen to help when he did not need to. And maybe, just  _maybe_  Ace was a little glad too—  _but not glad enough that he could completely ignore the strengthening tightness in his gut—_ How could he not be when he saw those thin, dirty children laugh and play?

_Calm._

"So what do we do now?" another man asked, bringing up the question they all were thinking.

Ace hid a grimace behind a smooth mask. "How many of you are marked?" he asked quietly.

An uncomfortable ripple went through the group, and some of them looked away.

"More than fifty." The elderly man revealed. "I don't know an exact number." He reached up and clasped his shoulder, pressing down on the brand burned onto his collar bone.

"I have enough seamen to sail us wherever we need to go." The sailor said, hand drifting towards his ribs. "But if we go home, they'll send us right back or risk getting attacked by Marines."

Ace's empathy stirred to life at the crestfallen, stunned expressions some of them gained, moods worsening and fingers twitching towards permanent brands on their skin. His heart went out to them, because so many were civilians and innocents who were in the wrong place at the wrong time and had lost everything because of it.

Those without brands were lucky. They could most likely go back home. But those with brands had few options. They could either try to return home and risk themselves and their families, or stay on the run for the rest of their lives and become criminals. They did not deserve that. No one did. They deserved to be able to live and be  _safe_.

An old idea niggled at the edge of Ace's mind and he barely considered it before letting it out. "Do you know of Whitebeard?"

"The Yonko?" one man whispered uneasily.

Ace nodded. "Yes. He has an island near here. You can go there. The Whitebeards will help get you home, and if you can't go home, you can live there. Whitebeard will protect you and your families too if they come to him. You won't be sold back into slavery."

"How do you know that he won't sell us to the Government? And why would Whitebeard help us?" the woman asked.

Ace almost said Whitebeard would help because he was one of the Yonko's sons, only to recall he in fact  _wasn't_  at the last moment. The fire-user cursed internally at his stupidity, so used to being able to offer sanctuary with Whitebeard to those who needed it that he had forgotten that was not the case this time.

Or… was it?

_Time to be a manipulative bastard to my fam— former family again. Yay._

Ace took a piece of paper from his pocket and a pen, writing as he spoke. "Trust me, they'll help you. Whitebeard protects places like Fishman Island and Wano and he's harbored many escaped slaves before. He is also powerful enough to keep the Marines out. They wouldn't dare mess with him and they wouldn't be able to touch you."

"It's true." The Fishman spoke up. "Whitebeard does protect my home. He is very strong and trustworthy."

His certainty convinced many of the gathered slaves, their tension fading, and Ace gave an internal sigh of relief. He finished his note and shoved it into the sailor's hands.

"On the off chance that the Whitebeards do question you, give them this. It says you met me and that I sent you to them."

The sailor pocketed the note and paused. "You are not accompanying us? Since you are an ally of Whitebeard, surely you should come along?"

Ace wondered how he had noticed their positive connection. Perhaps it was Ace's confidence when speaking of Whitebeard that clued the man in to their standing with each other. Ace was not about to correct him about any of his assumptions so he purposely gave an awkward laugh and scratched at his ear. "It's that obvious, huh? Sorry, but I have my own mission to complete. I technically shouldn't even be stopping for so long."

"Then thank you again for helping us." the woman said, gripping his hand. Ace didn't twitch. "Just show us the way to the island and we will take it from here."

"And we'll give you some supplies for your trip!" another woman offered.

Nods of agreement were given all around.

Some of Ace's building stress drifted away and his shoulders relaxed. "That isn't necessary. I have enough to make it where I'm going. You need it more. You can thank me by continuing to help each other, okay?"

The woman chuckled, the sound airy and light. "What a heroic type you are."

"I'm not." Ace informed her bluntly, and she merely smiled and shook her head 'knowingly'. If only she  _really_  knew.

The group split apart to prepare and a couple hours later, they amicably parted ways. Ace learned that the little girl survived, that the doctor had managed to save all those that were injured, and that a few of the slaves that had been captives the longest were just beginning to realize they had been freed. He did not try to learn more.

The ship headed to Whitebeard's island with a whited-out sail while Ace continued on his lonely journey. The fire-user stood at the helm of his small vessel and watched the ship disappear from sight with Stefan standing loyally at his side.

As soon as it vanished over the horizon, Ace crumpled, breathing harshly as his entire body shook. Stefan whined and stayed with him as his body quivered, sweat dripping down his brow as his breathing came faster and faster.

"What did I do?  _What did I do?_ " he wheezed.

He'd done it. He'd attacked the slavers and freed the slaves. He'd sent them to Whitebeard.

So what would the  _consequences_  be?

Ace tried to slow his breathing by focusing on Stefan's soft fur, but it wasn't working because the weight of unknown possibilities was burying him. There was a  _reason_  why he did not do things on a whim anymore. There was a  _reason_ why he avoided changing things that were unrelated to saving his family. Every change he made caused a ripple effect, and could result in him screwing himself over sometime in the future.

_Stupid stupid_ _**stupid!** _

Ace tried to reason that he had already changed too much by leaving the Whitebeards, but the thought did little to quell the panic that tore through his body and left him shuddering. That little bit of relief was enough to make him push himself to his feet and grab the wheel, hunched over it like a man slowly dying of a fatal wound. Because even with the changes, his mission remained the same. He'd already spent nearly a day in one place, and he needed to keep moving. He had to ensure none of it was in vain so soon.

Stefan circled around him, whimpering unhappily, and Ace could not force his white-knuckled fingers off of the wheel to pet him.

"I'll be fine.  _Everything_  will be fine." He assured the dog hoarsely. "It has to be."

OPOPOPOPOP

She watched the two vessels part ways and felt a rush of…  _something_  pound through her veins. She could not say whether the tightness in her throat was guilt or bitterness. When the tiny boat had come upon the slavers' ship, she had  _almost_  acted, coming so close to bringing her own small ship above the water to help the unlucky soul that had stumbled upon it. But she knew her mission, so she stayed back and watched through a spyglass with bated breath as the boat's passenger— a teen who had to be her age, maybe younger— climb into the lion's den.

Then the unexpected happened.

He attacked the slavers.

She'd witnessed, mouth agape, as he tore through the slavers like they weren't even an obstacle, fighting with a mixture of ruthlessness and grace that was impossibly both controlled and unpredictable. As she watched him slaughter the slavers, a small bit of fear broke through her own vicious satisfaction, both emotions mitigating the guilt that had been haunting her since the start of her mission.

He had done what she should have but had been unable to. He was killing the monsters that caught and sold people as if they were property.

But this boy was not an angelic savior. He was dangerous, wild, unstable, ruthless, cold, drifting below deck with the smoothness of a predator on the hunt.

Then he emerged with the freed slaves.

Then he helped them.

Then they parted ways.

And then she watched him crumple and break down, alone on his vessel with only his dog to comfort him.

Was he just realizing what had happened and what he had done? Was he overcome by the cruelty he had inflicted and what horrors he had seen in the cages far below? Was he mourning those he could not save? Or did something else weigh on him so heavily that his seemingly unshakable frame had buckled to the deck?

She did not know. But she needed to find out. Because there was little else she could do now.

Her mission was in jeopardy. She had  _needed_  that ship to reach its destination, no matter how much her heart ached and her conscience pleaded with her to free the slaves within. She had spent weeks following it, reassuring herself that she would free them once it reached its destination, because there was no other way to  _find him_.

But that boy had come along, and done what she could not. He had killed the slavers, freed the slaves, and sent them to safety if her listening devices were to be believed.

He had chosen to help, unaware of his observer or her mission.

And now Koala's only lead to Sabo was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I will not answer questions about that last bit and what it implies. All will be explained in time. *maniacal giggling*


	13. A Little Insight

As the wind rustled through his fiery feathers, Marco could not resist the urge to twist through the air, following the random currents of the atmosphere rather than a straight line. His Phoenix side wanted to let loose and play, diving and flipping through the air streams as he gave joyful trills but he could not allow himself more than a few meager twirls and swoops. Scouting was an occasional but necessary duty he performed, his bird form allowing him to soar over the dangerous waves and spot potential threats to his siblings, and he took his job very seriously. The area may seem empty, but anything could appear without warning, so he must remain vigilant, as much as the playful part of him wanted him to let loose, just this once.

If Marco were with the entirety of his family, he might indulge, but he was with a mere three others. Three others that would be unable to help if he was attacked in his distraction and fell. The Phoenix shook the lingering instincts away and steadied his flight path, ascending above the clouds. The thin grey blanket did not provide much cover, but they were enough to keep the less observant type unaware of his presence. He could only hope that the ship he was scouting for consisted of the oblivious.

A dark spot on the waves caught his eye and he glided closer, maintaining his altitude above the clouds. A quick scan of the sail showed only a blank white canvas, but just because the vessel lacked the name of one of the Public Employment Security Office's 'affiliates' did not mean it wasn't one. Or an enemy in general. Marco flew just a bit closer, prepared to dodge any unsavory objects that might be shot at him. His bird form came with the added perk of enhanced vision, and he did not need to get close to see the bedraggled figures milling about the deck.

The less informed might believe the dirty crewmen were simply the grubbier sort, but Marco knew better. Many of the 'sailors' were uncertain in their movements, stumbling about like drunkards as they performed their duties and giving the railings a wide berth. They were uncomfortable on the sea in a way that even the greenest rookie would not be, barring the few souls the jelly-legged sought out for guidance.

As Marco hovered out of sight, he soon picked up on who were the leaders of the misplaced land-dwellers— minus the man who was obviously a sailor and knew far more than his companions about the sea. And although there was the occasional hesitation to approach those in command, there was no fear. Unless these slavers were as capable seafarers as a desert lizard, they were not slavers at all. Someone freed the slaves, and Marco had a sneaking suspicion as to the identity of their savior.

The Phoenix tilted his wings and turned a smooth arc, making his way back to the only other boat in nearby waters. Thatch waved to him from the deck, vibrant grin widening as Marco approached. As Marco hovered briefly above the vessel, Izo and Bay drew closer, leaving Haruta at the wheel. The Phoenix smoothly transformed from bird to human and landed neatly on the deck. He straightened from a crouch, arms lowering from their raised position to cross over his chest.

"There's another ship less than a click west." He reported. "We should have visual of it soon, yoi."

"Is it our friendly neighborhood slavers?" Izo asked as he daintily picked nonexistent grime out from under his nails with a dagger.

"Based on what I saw, not anymore." Marco said. "Unless they're playing a long con, the people manning the ships are all freed slaves."

"Ace freed them?" Thatch asked eagerly, face split into a wide grin.

"You don't know it was him. We don't even know if he went this way." Haruta pointed out.

"Who else would it be?" Thatch asked, unoffended.

"Shall we go and met our freed sailors?" Izo interjected, nipping the brewing argument at the bud.

"Let's." Marco agreed.

Haruta sailed their small vessel towards the ship, the bustle of people moving about and shouting piercing the air almost as soon as it was visible. The reason became evident enough as many of the former slaves gathered along the railing with makeshift weapons. Marco spotted a couple swords, kitchen knives, planks of wood, broken manacles, and what appeared to be a frying pan among the items they'd picked up to defend themselves with. It might seem like overkill when facing a small vessel like the Whitebeards' but one could never be too careful in the New World. Perhaps these former slaves knew that better than anyone.

Thatch did not appear bothered by the tense reception. "Hello!" he called up to the deck.

"Who the hell are you— Ow!"

Years of practice— and dealing with Thatch— let Marco keep a straight face as one of the men whacked the shouter upside the head, leaning in and likely giving him a low lecture about how to greet people. He identified them as two of the leaders he had seen earlier, along with another man— the sailor— a woman and a Fishman who lingered nearby. The sailor glanced at his companions before shouting down to the pirates.

"Sorry about that. My friend is a little twitchy around strangers. Is there something you need?"

"Not in particular." Thatch said, smiling disarmingly. "We're just looking for someone and were wondering if you ran into him."

"You're the first ship we've come across." The sailor said, straight-faced.

It was his companions that revealed his lie, a few shifting nervously while others' expressions hardened. Marco had to commend them for their stubbornness not to intentionally reveal anything, but it was also wasting the Whitebeard Pirates' time. They were all on the same side, and they needed to convince the former slaves of that before things got messy. The Phoenix sighed and reached up, rubbing his forehead tiredly. The movement drew the Fishman's attention to him, and his yellow eyes focused on Marco's chest, growing wide.

"That tattoo…" His eyes flicked up to meet Marco's. "You're Whitebeard Pirates."

"Yes, we are." Thatch confirmed.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, changing from suspicious to curious— and hopeful? The former slaves relaxed, lowering their makeshift weapons. A few leaned over the railing to get a better look at the pirates but their more cautious companions pulled them back to safety. After a short discussion between the leaders, the sailor turned back to the Whitebeards.

"Could you come on board? We need to discuss something with you."

Thatch smiled. "Of course."

He did not ask Marco for permission or look the Phoenix's way. Since the Commanders and Bay were not recognized on sight, it was apparent that the former slaves were not too familiar with the Whitebeards. Other than the Fishman— who kept glancing at the Phoenix— Marco was content to let them think the chef was in charge. Thatch was much friendlier than Marco anyway.

Marco, Thatch, Haruta, Izo, and Bay went on board. The doctor instantly asked if anyone needed medical attention and sped off towards the infirmary when one of the men said yes. The rest followed the leaders of the freed ship to the captain's quarters, where the sailor ruffled through some drawers. He located what he was looking for and pulled out a simple piece of folded paper, handing it to Thatch.

"I was told to give you this."

Thatch opened the letter and read it, eyes widening the slightest bit. Once he was finished— the movement of his eyes suggesting he had read it multiple times— he handed the paper to Marco. The message was short and to the point.

_These people are freed slaves who need a home._

_You claim you're a 'nice' Yonko crew._

_Prove it._

_Fire Fist_

_PS. I'm not going to be your brother, Thatch. Go home._

Marco looked at the sailor. "Ace freed you, yoi?"

"Is that his name?" the man asked. "He never told us. And yes, he freed us."

The nervous energy was back in the air, and Marco realized they were waiting for confirmation that they would be welcomed like the letter demanded. The Phoenix doubted any of them had read the contents of Ace's message, so they must assume Ace had explained the full situation to the Whitebeards instead of the short, cryptic note they'd received. Some might see it as arrogant, with the upstart rookie daring to demand something of a Yonko, yet Marco could not shake the thought there was a hidden meaning in Ace's letter.

Marco looked to Izo. "Retrieve one of the civilian flags, yoi." As the Commander nodded and left, he looked to the slaves. "It will keep you safe until you reach Whitebeard's island. You'll be welcome there."

The freed slaves relaxed, more than one beaming in relief. It was not customary for ships to receive the flag of someone under Whitebeard's protection so readily, but Marco could not deny these people, and not just because Ace was daring him to in order to show the Whitebeards could not be trusted. In fact, Marco suspected the opposite to be true. Ace knew perfectly well that Marco would help. He was just using this as an opportunity to shove them away again. Marco read the post-script again.

' _I'm not going to be your brother, Thatch. Go home.' He knew Thatch was going to be here._   _Bay's theory is sounding more and more plausible by the day._

Izo returned with the flag, emblazoned with a modified version of Whitebeard's mark. It was for civilian use only, and anyone who tried to use it otherwise would soon find themselves at the bottom of the ocean. The Yonko took his mark very seriously, for both pirates and the mundane civilians within his territories, and only the foolish would attack a vessel under Whitebeard's protection. He'd have to tell Oyaji about this ship later.

The sailor accepted the flag reverently and bowed to the Whitebeards. "Thank you." He murmured, straightening. "You… this means a lot to us. Your trust, your offer. I…" His voice shook. "How can we repay you?"

"You don't have to." Thatch said warmly. "Though if you could tell us how Ace is we'd appreciate it." The chef voiced it like a casual inquiry but Marco knew it was anything but.

The sailor did not notice. He sent the woman, other men, and the Fishman to raise the new flag— and spread the good news— and turned back to the pirates, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "He seemed alright. He wasn't injured during his fight with the slavers, anyway. He didn't linger because he needed to finish his mission, but he stayed long enough to help release everyone and get them situated." He chuckled. "He was a little uncertain what to do when people hugged him. Looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin. He shy?"

Haruta snorted.

"Oh yeah." Thatch said before his brother could say anything.

The sailor hummed vaguely. "Like I said, he didn't give much information about himself. And we were too busy with other things to pry. I think your brother was okay, though."

"He's n—" Thatch subtly bumped Haruta's arm, silencing him.

"Thanks. It's good to know he's unhurt." The chef said.

"He did look a little tired and high-strung." The sailor admitted. "Though he relaxed a lot after he let his dog onto the ship."

Marco's palm smacked into his forehead. His siblings did not understand.

"Dog?" Haruta questioned.

The sailor nodded. "Yes, a white dog was with him."

Thatch looked at Haruta.

Haruta looked at Thatch.

"Stefan?" the Fourth Division Commander asked.

"Stefan." The Twelfth Division Commander confirmed.

Izo sighed and went to the door. "I'll tell Oyaji where he is."

They watched him go, the sailor torn between chuckling and eyeing them sympathetically.

"I'm guessing the dog is a troublemaker?" he asked carefully.

"That's an understatement." Haruta grumbled. "So he's with our resident fire brat, huh? Great."

"I'm sure he'll be fine." The sailor said, and Marco couldn't tell whether he was speaking of Ace or Stefan. The man paused, glancing Marco's way, then lifted his head to fully meet the Phoenix's eyes.

"Say… that kid…" The sailor shifted from foot to foot, his hesitation clear on his face. When Thatch gave him an encouraging look, he pressed on. "I've seen fights before and the bodies left behind. As you all have."

_Ace took out an entire crew of slavers by himself._  Marco grimaced, preparing himself for what was coming.

"That kid… Ace… He killed the slavers alone." The sailor said, unintentionally echoing Marco's thoughts. "When he asked me to clean up in order to not scare the others, I expected to stumble upon a slaughter. Instead it was very… efficient." Neutral eyes met Marco's startled blue. "Most of 'em only had one hit each. The kid certainly knows how to take people out."

That was not what Marco had been expecting him to say. He'd braced himself for the sailor to describe a bloodbath with bodies torn to pieces or burnt beyond recognition, not swift exterminations that spoke of first-hand experience in the art of killing.

_No visions of the future would give Ace that type of skill._

His thoughts jumped to a couple possibilities, and all of them made a pit open in his stomach. The slight twitch in Thatch's fingers told him that the chef was thinking similarly. Marco would have to mull over this revelation later.

"Ace is well-trained, yoi." was all he said.

"I thought as much." The sailor's stiff posture melted away, leaving a tired air behind. "Kid's too young for that. He should be struggling with his first kill— or preferably not killing at all— not tearing through grown men like paper, you know?"

And the horrible thoughts came right back.  _Ace might be an escape child soldier, or a trained assassin, or a mafioso. Either way, someone taught a_ _ **child**_ _to kill, and kill efficiently. What kind of bastard would do that?_

"Yes." Marco agreed. "I know."

OPOPOPOPOP

Somehow, Ace made it to the island. His food was dwindling, sleep crept up on him more frequently than he liked, and the wound on his back was starting to itch, but he made it. The last of his food had gone to Stefan just that morning, and Thatch would be shrieking in disapproval if he knew of the light ache in Ace's gut that he was choosing to ignore but hey, he was still alive. So what if he'd skipped a few meals today, and yesterday, and the day before that. He was fine. Hopefully he would be able to hunt for food and exchange some of the meat for goods in town.

Goods which would have to include medical supplies. Saying that his back was 'starting to itch' was a bit of a lie. It had been bothering him for days, but he had not exactly taken the time to look at his healing injury. He had other things to worry about. So here he was, standing in front of the only mirror on the vessel and hoping beyond hope that his back felt worse than it was.

_If I die from infection I swear…_

Ace eased his shirt off and turned around, craning his neck to look at his back. It… wasn't as bad as he feared. The wound was almost completely healed, leaving a thick reddish line that stretched from his left shoulder to his right hip. There was no pus or anything particularly nasty, so if he kept it clean and actually changed the bandages he might be okay. It was going to scar though. There was no doubt about that.

_That'll be the last scar I get protecting a Whitebeard in this life_ , Ace vowed.  _I need to learn to stop being damn stupid and playing human shield._

Pain was not the reason Ace grimaced when he shrugged his shirt back on. The Whitebeards would probably show up at the island within a couple days, looking for him. They'd ask around town about a black-haired teenager in an orange hat, and would have one more clue that they were still on Ace's trail.

Ace smirked at his reflection.  _Guess I have to pretty myself up before I go out_.

One did not live as long as he had without learning how to be inconspicuous. With that in mind, he removed his signature orange hat and buttoned his shirt to cover up the bandages wrapped around his chest. He grabbed a discarded string from one of the empty packages of food and tied up his hair at the base of his neck, leaving a few strands around his face. His tan skin was grimy enough that no one would notice his freckles unless they looked closely, and if he added just a little more dirt onto his left cheek, the splotch might be mistaken for a birthmark or scar.

If Ace had more supplies— like some of Izo's extensive makeup collection— he could make it so no one would be able to recognize him— a skill he'd used more than once to infiltrate Marine bases and kill sons of bitches named 'Akainu'— but he'd make do with what he had.

He looked older. Not by much— curse his slimmer seventeen year-old body— but enough that strangers would not look at him and think 'teenager'. All the little altered details would hopefully get the Whitebeards off his scent, at least enough to give him a little more time. He exited the cabin, where an eager Stefan sat, tail wagging impatiently.

Ace chuckled. "Stay close, buddy."

Stefan leapt to his feet and obediently stayed at his side despite his obvious desire to go chase some seagulls. The village they had landed near was a fishing town. Small, quaint, the type of place where everyone knew everyone and the only visitors were the companies that bought their fish and the occasional lost sailor. The locals stayed out of the forest, preferring to fish for their food in relative safety, which meant meat from the creatures in the woods would be worth a lot more to the people here.

There shouldn't be any trouble, but trouble happened to be Ace's stalker so he'd keep an eye open. He circled around the town on the way in and went directly to the forest, intent on catching something to eat for himself first. A few hours later, Ace had emerged and sold four tigers, three alligators, three giant snakes, and a bear for the goods he needed. The local businesses were more than happy to pay for the rare commodities he offered, with one of the owners offering him a job to supply the shop full time. Ace politely declined. The sea was his home, not a peaceful place like this.

So, with a couple bags of items slung over his shoulder, Ace was ready to depart. There was no need to linger, and now that he had real supplies, he could choose a less predictable path and hopefully lose his pursuers. Stefan was not pleased to have to return to the vessel already, but the hunt in the forest had quelled most of his disobedient energy and he followed Ace willingly back to the docks.

As Ace headed back towards his vessel, he noticed another ship pulled up along the pier. It was a type of submarine if he wasn't mistaken, its coloring inconspicuous and completely without marks. The Whitebeards had a few, both marked and unmarked, but none of them looked like this. Another random traveler, then?

Ace got his answer soon enough. An orange-haired girl leaned against one of the posts of the pier, one arm covering her eyes while a fist banged furiously against the wood. From what Ace could see of her face, it was evident that she was distressed, her teeth clenched in a way that suggested she was trying not to cry. As he watched, she lifted her head and planted it against the pole in the manner of someone begging for punishment, mouth moving in a repeated pattern.

" _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."_

Ace grabbed Stefan before the dog could approach the girl. He should keep on walking. He should know better. He should  _really_  know better. But that girl was obviously miserable and apparently his empathy still existed so he paused and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

Teary blue eyes looked up at him, widening almost comically. "You're the boy who freed those slaves!" she blurted.

_Damn it. This is what I get for being nice._

Ace had three options open to him.

Option One: Lie.

Option two: Admit it.

Option three: Walk away.

The third option was awfully tempting, but he had a feeling the girl would not simply let him jump on his ship and sail off. He reluctantly settled for option two and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah. How do you know about it?"

She stiffened and Ace could see a variation of the Options going through her head. He eyed her levelly, tapping one foot and all-too ready to spring into action if she attacked. Her jaw clenched but rather than be confrontational, she looked like she was trying not to break. "I was following the ship. I saw you fight the slavers. You… you freed the slaves." As she repeated her earlier statement, her voice wobbled and she bit her lip.

Ace was beginning to guess why she was so distraught. His heart twanged with sympathy. "Was someone you know on the ship?"

"Not that one. I was using it to try to find him but when you freed them…" Her blue eyes dulled and her face crumpled into true despair. "I  _lost_  him."

_Ace messed up. He always messed up but this,_ _**this** _ _mistake took the cake._

_Ace was barely eighteen and the Marines had learned about Luffy. They'd gone to Dawn Island and captured his fifteen year-old brother. Rather than execute him— thank the Gods they didn't know about Dragon this time— Luffy had been sent to the auction. Apparently a Celestial Dragon wanted the brother of the infamous Fire Fist. Or they were hoping to lure in Gol D. Ace— How the hell had they learned about his father so early?— with his brother?_

_By the time Ace learned Luffy had been taken— from Shanks, no less— none of his sources knew where he was, not even Garp, who was trying his damned hardest to locate his grandson. Luffy was going to be sold. His freedom-loving little brother was going to become someone's property, all because those bastards wanted to get to Ace._

_He'd been to countless auctions, tore apart dozens of slave ships, and he still couldn't find Luffy. Even with Whitebeard's resources, Garp's determination, and Shanks's assistance they couldn't find his brother. It wasn't until five years later that they located him, and by then the Luffy he knew was gone, replaced by a thin, terrified boy with no will left and vacant eyes._

_Ace never found out what Luffy's_ _ **owner** _ _had done to him. The bastard hadn't lived long enough to tell him. All he knew was that Luffy was not the same, and never was again. His brother's seemingly invincible spark had been extinguished._

_Ace hadn't failed to save his brother's life this time, and yet he'd lost him all the same._

Ace would be hard-pressed to forget that desperation and hopelessness. The girl's frustration, distress, and bitterness at her failure were so potent it looked ready to crush her, a feeling he knew too well. To see that emotion reflected in a stranger's eyes was disconcerting, and he could not fall back onto his usual apathy. Not this time.

_This is my fault. It always is._ "I might be able to help you find him." He said slowly. " _Might_."

Her blue eyes went round, and Ace took a moment to consider this might be an elaborate ruse to catch him off guard. Stefan wasn't growling at her, a sign in her favor, and kept glancing hopefully at Ace, as if he were hoping the teen would rescind his order to stay away from her. The more Ace looked at her, however, the more familiar she seemed. He had seen her somewhere before. But where?

"You'll… help me find him?" she asked slowly. "How?"

Ace crossed his arms. "I know where—"  _all of_  "—a majority of the auctions are. Found them a while ago, don't ask why, you don't get to know."

If she was startled by his brusque tone she didn't show it. He tipped his head, studying her intently as the hopelessness left her eyes. With her grief—  _Do I look like that when **don'tthink**_ —no longer distracting him, he took in her appearance more carefully, noting the crimson cap she wore. Ah, he recognized her now.

Ace kept his expression stern. "Here's the thing. You want my help? Tell me the truth right now. You're a Revolutionary, aren't you?"

He remembered her face now, vaguely. Robin mentioned a Revolutionary named 'Koala' a few times over multiple loops and now he finally got to meet her. Koala had never been more than a name and a vague face to be recalled if he ever needed someone in the Revolutionaries on his side, but that need had never arose. Ace was happy to say he'd been successful in avoiding the Revolutionaries like the plague through all his loops, and not only because he'd get in trouble for punching their leader in the face.

Koala blinked at him, lips parted in surprise, but she nodded firmly. "Yes, I'm a Revolutionary. My name's Koala."  _Called it_ , Ace thought. "My partner allowed himself to be captured so we could locate the auction. Things… didn't go according to plan. We lost track of him."

"How?" Ace asked bluntly. "Don't you have his Vivre card or something?"

Koala gritted her teeth and pulled a large piece of paper from her pocket. "The idiot doesn't  _have_  his Vivre card. I found this instead of him." She glared at the still paper with burning, anguished eyes. "I tried to follow that slave ship to its auction and hoped to locate him from there but… then you freed them."

Ace could hear a tremor of guilt in her voice. He didn't condemn her for not releasing the slaves, however. If he were trying to find Luffy, he'd do the same thing. "So it's my fault. Got it." She opened her mouth— to protest or maybe agree— but he didn't let her. "Do you want my help or not?"

She frowned at him, caution overcoming her distress. "You'll really assist me? Just like that?"

"Yup. I don't have anything better to do." Ace said, and it was the truth. He had a couple more years of free time before he had to save people. "And like I said, I screwed up your mission so I guess I owe you."

"You're… very blunt." Koala murmured.

"I don't like wasting time with pointless chatter." Ace said blandly. He held out his hand. "So?"

"Fine. You're the only lead I have." Koala admitted, shaking his hand firmly. She grimaced. "And I always say S—  _he's_  the stupid one."

"You  _are_  the one going on a mission with a complete stranger." Ace reminded her innocently. "I'm 'Fire Fist' Portgas D. Ace, by the way. And this is Stefan." At his name, the dog finally lost his self-control and bounded over to the Revolutionary, nuzzling her hand. She scratched his ears, looking at Ace.

"Never heard of you." Koala informed him.

Ace grinned. "Good. We'll take your boat. Just let me grab my stuff." He whistled at Stefan and pointed at the Whitebeard's 'borrowed' vessel, leaping onto it after the dog. He paused on the deck, turning to lean on the railing and raise an eyebrow at Koala. "You want to tell me 'his' name or are we going to keep playing the pronoun game?"

Koala hesitated briefly. "Sabo. His name is Sabo."

"Nice to know." Ace said, unaffected.

Ace had heard of the Revolutionary 'Sabo' before, of course. How could he not? The man was practically as wanted as Dragon in many futures. But he did not matter to Ace. He was not Ace and Luffy's Sabo.

Relatively early in his loops, the Logia had sought out the guy just to make sure. He'd just 'happened' to go to the same bar as him, 'happened' to sit next to him, 'happened' to comment on his hat, leading to a conversation and introductions. Unless he was the greatest actor in the world, the Revolutionary had not recognized him. As 'Fire Fist' Portgas D. Ace, yes. As a best friend, a  _brother_? No. Ace was a stranger who happened to start a conversation with that Sabo in a bar. Nothing else.

Ace had done his best to avoid the Revolutionary Sabo after that. One Sabo had already died because of him. He was not about to interfere in the man's life just because he shared a name with his dead brother, thus adding another person to his list of those he needed to protect and likely dooming another Sabo.

And yet that was exactly what he had done, apparently. Because of him, the Revolutionary Sabo was lost and about to be sold into slavery when Ace knew he was meant to become a huge threat in a few years.

_Is it possible for my epithet to be changed from 'Fire Fist' to 'King of Ruining Lives'?_

Ace pushed such thoughts aside and gathered the few items he had from below deck, putting his hat back on his head. Ditching the Whitebeard's boat was a good move though he could hear his brothers scolding him for going on a ship with a complete stranger. Not that they'd ever know if Ace had anything to say about it. Besides, they had no say in Ace's life anymore. He could do what he needed to.

And that included making amends for his increasing number of mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going with the explanation that people need a piece of their Vivre Card on them for it to track them. I don't know if that's how they technically work (Vivre Cards confuse me) but oh well. *shrugs*


	14. Settling In

The move from his old vessel to the new one was quick and painless. As Ace and Stefan followed Koala into the depths of the submarine, he took a moment to marvel at the ludicrousness of his circumstances. Many would find it awkward to suddenly live with a stranger but Ace was not the shy type and he bet Koala was used to traveling with odd characters. The clear boundary was set between them, showing the line two strangers could not cross, and Ace found it hard to be uncomfortable with his new arrangements.

_How unhinged can I act before she kicks me off?_  He thought, amused.

He brushed such thoughts away, listening intently as Koala explained the layout of the sub to him. Ace put the location of the bedrooms, small infirmary, kitchen, and other important rooms to memory, determined to find his own way without any reminders. He touched the wall absently, feeling the wood. The halls were not the biggest; anything larger than the average human would have no change of fitting down here. The area was not dark, claustrophobic, or distressing by any means but Ace preferred the sky and sun to small, underwater halls. He glanced down at Stefan, who stayed close to his side as they walked.

"You going to be okay down here, buddy?"

Stefan sniffed the air and tipped his head, surveying their surroundings with bright eyes.

Ace snorted. "Yeah, you'll be fine. I'll have to teach you places you can't go."

"Has he ever been in a submarine before?" Koala questioned.

"Yes." Ace said, though he wasn't sure if it was in this life or a past one.

He wasn't about to let Koala know that, preemptively warding off the inevitable questions that would come if he was uncertain. Stefan was his dog and always had been, as far as Koala was concerned. Stefan soon grew distracted by a corner and trotted over to sniff it. Ace whistled sharply and snapped his fingers, pointing at his feet. Stefan's tail drooped and he returned to the Logia's side, eyes round and sorrowful.

"Don't give me that look." Ace said sternly. "You can't sniff around until I know you won't climb into something and get stuck."

Stefan dropped his head onto his paws, expression mournful, as if to say  _Who, me?_

"Yes, I'm talking about you." Ace informed him. Stefan transferred his sad eyes to Koala. "Ah-ah _ah_. Don't try it. She won't let you get away with this either." Stefan exuded innocence, stunned by his supposedly baseless claim. Ace sighed. "You're a menace."

He heard Koala chuckle and looked up to see her smiling. Her blue eyes met his grey, and something in her features relaxed. "You adore him."

Ace kept his expression smooth, revealing nothing. "He's all I have."

She did not ask more, simply opening a door and ushering them inside. Stefan bounded in without a care. Ace hesitated briefly before walking past her and showing his back, relaxing only once he leaned against a wall inside. She did not appear to notice his caution, walking to a shelf and pulling a few maps off of them. She laid them out on the table.

"We might as well get down to business. I don't think you'll mind."

"You know me so well." Ace said dryly, understanding and appreciating her mindset. Every moment counted in this mission, so business came before niceties. Ace actually liked it better that way.

Unaware of his thoughts, Koala rolled her eyes and pointed at a spot on the map, marked clearly with a blue pin. "This is where Sabo was captured." Her finger jabbed another marker. "This is where I lost the ship he was on." Finally, her finger rested on a third pin. "And this is where you rescued other ship I was tracking."

Ace leaned forward, easily tracing familiar paths with his eyes. A shiver went up his spine as he recalled all the other missions spent poring over maps while seeking to trace both missing friends and soon-to-be-dead enemies. Years of repeats meant he could point at the map and tell the exact location of a majority of people of interest at many given times, but this time his targets were stationary. That made it even easier to predict where the slave ship would go.

"The closest auction is here." He marked a spot on the map with a black pin. "But an information outpost is here." He marked another spot north of the auction, this time with red.

"So we can hope to find Sabo at the auction or find information on the ship at the outpost." Koala summarized. She eyed the locations critically before looking to Ace. "Where do you think we should go?"

"It's your mission. You lead." He raised an eyebrow. "Just know that if I think you're making a stupid decision, I'll tell you."

"Good." She said, sounding more amused than offended. "I'll be sure to heed your advice. You're more knowledgeable at this than me. What do you think would give us a better chance of finding Sabo?"

Ace considered it carefully, mulling over the different rescues he had taken part in during the past. "The slave ships don't always head to the nearest auction. In fact, they rarely do. It's harder to track them that way. If we go to the outpost, we'll have a better chance of finding the ship your partner was taken on and which auction he was taken to." He gave a humorless smirk. "Even slavers keep business paperwork. Who knew?"

"Will that paperwork include whether—" She faltered briefly before pressing on. "Whether Sabo's been sold and to whom?"

"Possibly." Ace said. "It depends on how recently he was bought. It might not be up-to-date."

"So the outpost is our best chance." Her lip curled. "Will the paperwork be coded?"

"It's easy to crack." Ace reassured her. "They don't even bother hiding much of the information, simply calling the slaves 'merchandise' and the like." He snorted. "Even Stefan could figure it out after a couple minutes of looking."

Hearing his name, the dog obliviously glanced at him before continuing his inspection of the room. He lingered near a chair, ears perking.

"Stefan, no." Ace said sharply. "Don't chew that."

The dog's ears and tail drooped and he wandered away, looking at Ace as if hoping the Logia would change his mind.

Koala failed to notice the exchange, lips thin as she looked at their destination. Anger came off of her in waves, but she kept it under control. Ace made note of it, deciding it was best not to let those emotions fester. He knew better than anyone how much rage could ruin everything.

"You have a problem with the whole slave business." He said bluntly. "Is that problem and your partner's involvement going to compromise you?"

She blinked at him, startled by his straightforward question. After a pause, she shook her head. "No. I've dealt with missions like this before. I will remain rational." Her gloved hands gripped the tabletop, wrapping around the edge in a way that would cause them to bite into her palms. Then she shook herself. "I haven't thanked you for agreeing to help me, have I?"

"Don't." Ace said. "I'm the reason you needed my help in the first place."

Blue eyes narrowed slightly but she did not continue that conversation. "Now that we have a course, we can move forward." She said, heading out the door.

Ace followed her, hands in his shorts pockets. "So you can sail the sub alone?"

"Yes, though it's easier with more than one person."

"How long can she stay underwater?" Ace questioned.

"Twelve hours."

Ace hummed.  _Good thing I'm not claustrophobic._ "How many rooms are there?"

"More than you think." She said. "There's the kitchen, storage, a brig, the engine room, infirmary, control room, bedrooms, and a few others. They're a bit small."

"I'll live." Ace said. "Are the walls soundproof?"

"Not completely, but they do muffle sound a bit. Why?"

"I snore." Ace said blandly.

She snorted. "Trust me; you won't be as bad a Sabo. You can hear him on the moon." She hesitated briefly before adopting a blasé countenance. "Do you want to tell me anything about yourself?"

_Is she fishing for information? Or does she wish to know me better out of basic politeness?_  Ace mused. He decided he could at least give her a couple basic, necessary facts. "I'm a Devil Fruit user." He said. "Mera Mera no Mi."

"Ah." Koala nodded. "I'll rescue you if the need arises."

She said it so simply— Of course she would save him. He didn't even need to ask.— it almost reminded him of Luffy. Old hysteria threatened to choke Ace but he pushed it back down. "That would be appreciated."

They reached a ladder, and Koala climbed up first, offering her hand to help him. Ace ignored her hand and pulled himself out of the circular space himself, gaze sweeping the control area briefly. The mechanisms to drive the sub looked simple enough, and he was certain he could figure out their quirks and functions in record time. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, though this specific model was new to him.

Koala sat in the captain's chair, fiddling with the controls as she set a course. "You know, you're not very forthcoming about… anything."

"We just met." Ace told her, not offended in the slightest.

"Even strangers tend to give more than a name and their basic powers." Koala pointed out.

"Says the secretive Revolutionary." Ace retorted levelly.

"Hey, you know more about me than I do you at this point." She said without ire. "You know why I'm here. At least tell me what you were doing sailing out in the middle of nowhere." She frowned shrewdly, gaze flicking to his partially-exposed ASCE tattoo. "Are you a pirate?"

Ace thought over his answer for a while before shrugging. "I don't really know anymore. Right now I'm just going where the wind takes me and being Ace."

Even with that baseless sea travelling and his past in mind, Ace could not consider himself a pirate anymore. Pirates were meant to be the freest people in the world. He would never be free.

"You really don't have a goal, then? No dream to accomplish?" Koala drummed her fingers on the wheel, glancing sidelong at him. "Have you ever considered becoming a Revolutionary?"

Ace barked a laugh. "Nah. I'm too selfish for that."

Koala shot him a disbelieving look. "You freed slaves for nothing in return."

"I needed the exercise." Ace informed her.

She shook her head. "Right. Well, how about you think about it?"

"Nope. Don't need to." He locked eyes with her, smiling with the slightest glimpse of teeth. "There are only a couple people who I'll take orders from and Dragon will  _never_  be one of them."

That made her pause and study him more intently. Ace held her gaze, not backing down in the slightest. Dragon may have goals that might take down the World Government someday, but those same goals made him abandon Luffy. In both the distant and recent past, there had been too many nights where Luffy grew unusually contemplative, and would cling to Ace for seemingly no reason in order to reaffirm that his brother would never leave him.

It had taken a while, but Ace had eventually realized that clinginess was due to deep-rooted fears that Luffy wasn't good enough for people to want to stay. Ace would never forgive Dragon for causing his brother that uncertainty, and he would rather die a thousand times over than follow that bastard's orders.

Koala looked away first. "You're a weird person, Ace." She informed him.

"Thanks. I try." Ace said glibly. "Do you need anything else or can I go pick a room?"

"Go ahead. I'm good here." She said. "You'll be able to tell which is mine."

Ace nodded and quickly retreated, Stefan at his side. Soon after, the sub shuddered slightly, indicating they had submerged. He found a sparse bedroom and closed the door, checking for anything out of place. Finding none, he sat on the bed and put his head in his hands.

_What the hell am I doing?_  He thought.

Everything about this was a bad idea. He had a list of 'Things  _Not_  to Do' and was cheerfully checking off every single one of them by going on this mission. It was true that he had already irreversibly affected the timeline, but now he was going out of his way to screw it up even more. Yes, he should save the Revolutionary Sabo or things could go haywire at the worst possible moment in the future, but traveling with Koala was beyond stupid on his part.

Ace wanted to claim he would finish this journey without forming any attachments but the notion was ludicrous. He wasn't heartless, no matter how much he wanted to be. He couldn't do it. He couldn't add on or two more people to the list of those he needed to save. Avoiding such attachments was the entire point of leaving the Whitebeards. But he was going to bond with Koala unless he went back on his word or ditched this timeline completely.

_It'll all reset again one day. I might as well see where it goes. Who knows?_  He smirked humorlessly.  _Maybe I'll learn something new._

OPOPOPOPOP

'Fire Fist' Portgas D. Ace was weird. If Koala had learned anything about her new travelling companion in the short amount of time she'd known him, it was that. He avoided her for the rest of the first day, not even exiting the room for dinner or to say goodnight, only to pop out of his room with no warning for breakfast the next morning.

Naturally, Koala had just stuffed an apple in her mouth when he entered the kitchen and she nearly choked, startled by his unexpected appearance. She had seen his type before— standoffish loner who wouldn't share anything under threat of death— and assumed Ace would refuse to interact with her for  _at least_  a week before poking his head out of his room. And yet here he was, standing in the doorway like a child forced to attend school and make friends. The almost resigned air he gave off vanished as she spluttered and he grimaced.

"Please don't die." Ace pleaded in a bored tone.

Koala swallowed the stubborn piece of apple and scoffed even as she hacked a few more times. "That'd—  _cough_ — be a pathetic way to go."

"I've seen it happen." Ace claimed, straight-faced.

Koala rolled her eyes at him as she took a more manageable bite of apple. She was beginning to suspect her companion had a very dry, black sense of humor. It was a bit odd to see that type of deadpan wit in someone so young, but Koala could roll with it.

"Well, I refuse to die like that." She proclaimed just as dryly. She walked to the fridge, smiling at Stefan as he nudged her leg hopefully. "What do you want to eat?"

"Toast and eggs." Ace said simply. "I'm no chef but I can make it."

"I was just about to cook some for myself." Koala hummed. "You do the eggs, I'll do the toast."

"Kay." Ace said agreeably.

They set about their tasks in an easy silence. Koala appreciated it. Witty banter was a fun way to bond, but it would also remind her of Sabo and  _damn it all_  she didn't want to wallow in the guilt of losing him. Koala grimaced briefly as its familiar claws scratched at her heart but toasted the bread, leaning against the counter as she watched it to ensure it would not burn.

Ace made the eggs without comment, searching for a few ingredients on his own to familiarize himself with the area. That or he simply did not want to ask Koala. She did not mind. It was obvious he was uncomfortable around her and not in a mere 'strangers' way. The curious part of her itched to discover his secrets but she kept that part in check. There was no need to antagonize her travelling companion just yet, no matter how much her nosy—  _curious_  side wanted her to.

The peaceful atmosphere lingered as the toast and eggs were cooked and transferred to plates. Koala settled down to eat, giving Ace a cursory glance before digging into her meal. As quick as she was, he noticed her scrutiny. The resigned air returned and Ace sat at the table like a man being served his last meal. Interesting. The way his shoulders tensed and he turned towards the door, she expected him to take his food to his room. It was almost like he was forcing himself to stay in her company even as he avoided her eyes by staring at his meal. If that was truly the case, Koala wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Her curiosity prodded at her hopefully but she held her tongue. She could eat in silence. She wouldn't ask any questions. She would let him become comfortable in her presence before grilling him for his life story. She wouldn't rush headfirst into questions because she could sense  _something_  interesting underneath that discomfort. She was a Revolutionary, always in control, always knowing exactly when to act, level-headed and logical and smart and in no way falling to childish inquisitiveness—

"How old are you?" Damn it.

The way Ace sighed made it sound like he expected the question, or at least something similar to it. Or maybe he knew that coming to the kitchen would leave him exposed to Koala's inevitable inquiries. The Revolutionary did not like to think she was so obvious about her nosiness—  _curiosity_ , but hey, trying to find out people's secrets came with her job. She knew better than to dig, but she wanted to  _know_  things. Especially considering Portgas D. Ace seemed to have a history with the slave trade— likely as one of its unwilling participants.

It hit Koala then that she really wanted to know if he was like her.

_Oh._

Ace responded before her realization could shake her. "Why do you want to know?"

He didn't sound offended or upset but still  _resigned,_ like he felt he  _had_  to talk to her. Surely if talking to her was such a chore he could just leave? No one was making him stay here. Koala shoved away such churlish thoughts and smiled. "Just curious if we're around the same age."

"Hmm." He grunted vaguely, not sounding particularly excited about her choice of topic.

"I'm seventeen." She offered.  _So is Sabo. We think._  She kept that tidbit to herself because nope that was not relevant to the conversation; in fact her partner had nothing to do with the conversation so there was no need to feel the  _crushing weight of her absolute failure_  nope—

"I'm surprised you have to ask me, Miss Revolutionary." Ace said, mercifully dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Koala noted he was looking at her now, grey eyes unreadable. She could almost pretend he had noticed her dipping mood and spoken to pull her back to the present. "'Miss Revolutionary' doesn't know everything."

"Uh-huh." Ace said, prodding a bit of egg and eating it. "So how old does Miss Revolutionary think I am?"

Koala shrugged, leaning her chin on one hand. "To be honest, I have you pegged at fifteen or sixteen?"

Ace acknowledged her hinted wish for confirmation with a shake of his head. "Nope. Wrong. I look younger than I really am because of these." He tapped a freckle idly.

"Oh really? How old are you then?" Koala asked.

Ace tapped his chin, expression thoughtful. "I'd say at least a thousand years old."

Koala snorted into her eggs. "Wow. The years have been kind to you."

"Not really." Ace claimed blandly. "I've seen many terrible things." His expression remained bland but he wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

She chuckled and shook her head. "If you're that old, what happened in the Void Century that the World Government is hiding?"

"It turns out the Celestial Dragons are descended from pirates and warmongers that took the throne from the rightful heirs." Ace said, straight-faced. "The descendants of those heirs are the 'D's' running around now."

"Cool." Koala said, lips twitching. At least her travelling companion had a sense of humor. "Does that make you a long-lost Prince then?"

"Yup." Ace said, completely monotone.

Koala pressed her lips together, struggling not to crack up. "You do realize what tremendous news you just shared?"

"Oh darn. I've told you my secret." Ace said in a completely bored tone.

"I'll keep it." Koala promised solemnly.

She couldn't keep her mirth inside any longer and chuckled. She swore Ace's lips curled in amusement but the expression was gone too quickly for her to be certain it was ever there.

"…I'm seventeen as well." He said eventually.

"I guess we have that in common." Koala commented, but her heart warmed.

He could have ignored her question. He could have walked out at any time. He could have avoided her for as long as possible and only stayed with her when it became necessary. Yet here he was, making an effort to get to know her. Maybe she had him pegged wrong. He was still weird, but not the insufferable-loner she thought he might be. That was good. She'd hate working with someone who barely tolerated her presence.

As soon as he was done eating, Ace retreated like the kitchen was on fire. Well, he didn't flee the room or anything, but the quickness of his steps betrayed how much he wanted to get out of there. Koala didn't mind. She put the dishes in the sink to be washed later and headed alone to the control area of the submarine. They had a lot of ground to cover before they reached Sabo.

She flicked at the switches, pressed all the buttons, and they submerged once more, slipping seamlessly below the ocean's surface. Koala focused on the task at hand, watching for any Sea Kings in nearby waters. Or other vessels. Or stray cannonballs. A lot of bad things could pop out of the darkness at any time, so she needed to keep an eye out. They couldn't risk more problems or delays. Not when Sabo could very well be suffering at the hands of a slaver or owner or Marine or Celestial Dragon or—

Koala hunched over the controls, biting her lip. The urge to slam her fists into the wheel and howl in anguish bubbled up in her throat but she swallowed it, settling for a low, muffled wail. Her partner, her  _best friend_  was living through her worst nightmare because of her incompetence. Stupid, determined, brave Sabo was in the hands of the scum of this world for longer than he ever should have been because she had failed to rescue him.

She should have told Dragon to stick his mission where the sun didn't shine when he came to Sabo with it. She should have told Sabo to reject the mission, should have offered to go instead, should have tried to figure out another way to complete it other than having Sabo be  _captured_ , and— failing all that— should have taken better precautions to keep him from being lost.

Should have should have should have.

She had done none of those things and her lack of foresight had snowballed into Sabo's disappearance. If it were any other type of mission she might not feel so scared, but Sabo was currently a  _slave_ , and it was all  _her fault_.

Koala liked to think she was a collected individual, but as haunting memories of whips, fear, and fake smiles prodded at her consciousness, that collectedness nearly cracked and turned her back into that scared, dirty,  _helpless_  little slave girl who couldn't save anyone, not even herself.

"I'll find him." She promised, and wiped at her stinging eyes.

Koala put her hands back on the controls and drove the sub forward. The empty ocean yawned out in front of her, the solitary sub creaked and moaned as it continued its friendless journey, and the isolated control room was eerily silent, lacking the familiar laughter and teasing she yearned for.

She had never felt so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very much a bridge chapter. Hmm. I hope you found it enjoyable, at the very least.


	15. Slip Away

The shipwright trembled in his patched leather boots, sweat dripping down his forehead by the bucketful. He had the blank, haunted look of a man who had accepted his death, gone over past regrets, and was currently making peace with whatever deities he believed in. Marco could not blame him. It was not every day a shipwright found out the abandoned vessel he bought and butchered for parts belonged to a Yonko crew.

"We're not angry with you." Marco tried to reassure the shaking man. "We just want to know about the person who had the ship."

"I don't know anything. The vessel was left on the docks, so the town sold it to me for parts. I d-don't know about the former owner."

The shipwright whispered his response as if he expected a bullet to the head at any second. Considering how some pirates acted, it was not a farfetched assumption, and Marco was not sure he had the time to convince the man the Whitebeard Pirates were not the type to threaten random ship builders. Marco exchanged a helpless glance with Izo, who gave a cursory scan of the area. They were behind a secluded building near the docks, having been directed there by an apologetic villager when they revealed their vessel had been 'stolen' and they tracked it here.

They had not meant to corner the shipwright as he exited his craft, staring at a flag he'd likely found too late with a horrified expression, but fate seemed determined to ruin the man's day. The shipwright had not screamed or panicked when he looked up to see five Whitebeards standing in front of him, instead freezing in place like a rabbit surrounded by wolves. Marco could not tell if he was naturally the quiet type or if his soft voice and preferred silence was how he dealt with the terror he felt.

The shipwright noticed the look that passed between the Whitebeards and shut his eyes, remaining eerily silent. If he weren't a hapless islander they were unintentionally intimidating, Marco might be impressed. Most would be screaming or begging for their lives right now. Instead, he kept quiet, maybe hoping not to draw anyone else into danger. But Marco wasn't trying to scare the man, and certainly had no intention of harming him. So instead he had to swallow the guilt that turned his heart to lead.

"Sir. Hey." Thatch said, voice surprisingly gentle. "I know birdie is frightening to look at but he's telling the truth. We're not mad at you. You didn't know. How about my friends go ask some other people and just you and I can talk, okay?"

The shipwright took in the chef's open, earnest expression and nodded hesitantly. Marco jerked his head and Izo, Haruta, and Bay followed him down the dock, leaving Thatch alone with the man.

Haruta huffed angrily, kicking at a loose stone and watching it plop into the water. "I can't believe the brat just  _left_  our boat there for any idiot to grab."

"Evidently Ace hid our flag and any other sign she was a Whitebeard vessel." Bay mused. She tipped her head thoughtfully, tapping at her chin. "He could have thrown it overboard."

"I'm surprised he didn't burn it all." Haruta muttered. "He disrespects Oyaji enough."

"What I'm concerned with is how he got off the island." Izo said, ignoring his shorter brother's mutters.

"He must have gotten a ride, yoi." Marco guessed.

"Unless he suddenly gained the ability to fly or teleport, I'd have to agree." Bay said.

"How do we know he isn't somewhere on the island?" Haruta asked.

"He doesn't have enough money for a new vessel and he wouldn't let his only way off get impounded." Bay pointed out.

"So how did he leave?" Marco wondered.

"Excuse me!"

The pirates slowed down, turning as an older man limped determinedly towards them. His skin was weathered and kissed by a permanent layer of salt, his hands calloused from years working on the sea, and he approached the pirates without fear, stopping in front of Marco. The Phoenix looked down at the man, who was at least a head shorter than him, but upon meeting his dark, stern eyes felt like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"…Yes?" he asked.

"Are ya that vessel there?" the man asked, gesturing at the Whitebeard's ship.

"Yes." Marco said warily.

The man nodded sharply. "I'm the harbormaster. Ya haven't paid yer fee ya know? There's a box, right there for it." He pointed at the covered wooden box near the edge of the dock.

Marco stared at him, speechless. "Um." was eloquent, awe-inspiring, well-articulated response. Truly, it was worthy of being spoken by the First Mate of the World's Strongest Man.

Haruta snorted, muffling his laughter behind his hand.

The harbormaster rolled his eyes. "I know yer them Whitebeard Pirates but that don't mean you can skimp. I already lost one payment when that damn sub left and I ain't losin' another!"

Marco was too tired to deal with this. He was definitely too tired to argue with the man. He could already tell he was as stubborn as a mule. The Phoenix rubbed at his forehead. "Izo, get the Berries."

The okama did as he asked, shaking his head.

The harbormaster smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. "Thank ye."

"Right." Marco groaned.

"What was that about a sub?" Bay asked suddenly.

The harbormaster scowled, scratching at his ear. "A few days ago, there was a little sub here for a few minutes. I didn't even get the box out before it left." He smirked smugly. "I did get the other little vessel that came in that day. The nice lad on board paid me, unlike  _some_  people."

Marco's pride stung but he ignored it. He wasn't about to let a small-town harbormaster ruffle his feathers—  _Dammit, Thatch._

"What did the boy look like?" Bay asked casually.

Comprehension dawned and Marco focused on the harbormaster, his annoyance draining away.

The man scratched at his nose. "The lad had black hair, blue shirt, tan skin. I can't remember much else." He stared intently at Izo as the okama handed him his payment. The Commander hardly blinked as he dropped a few more Berries into his palm. The harbormaster grinned his gap-toothed smile and Marco's eye twitched. "Things are clearer now. The lad was talking to the sub owner. Young lady. Orange hair, pink shirt, nice hat. The lad got all his stuff off his vessel and went on hers. They left before I got paid."

_So I've heard._  Marco kept his thoughts to himself.

"How long ago was that?" Bay asked.

The harbormaster pursed his lips, glancing at Izo. The okama stared black emotionlessly. Finally, the man huffed. "At least a week, I'd say."

_We're falling further and further behind._  "Thanks for the information." Marco said politely.

"Yer welcome." The harbormaster grunted.

Having gotten his pay— and some extra— he wandered back down the pier, whistling to himself. The Whitebeards watched him go.

"Was that actually Ace?" Izo asked.

"If our ship was the only one to come in that day like our harbormaster friend claims, most likely." Marco said.

"Who could that girl be? A friend of his?" Bay asked.

Haruta snorted. "The fire brat doesn't have friends. He ditched his old crew, remember?"

"What's your problem with him?" Thatch asked from behind the short Commander.

Haruta jumped with a shriek. He glared at Thatch, hand to his chest. "How'd you sneak up on me?"

"You should know I can be stealthy when I want to be." Thatch said cheerfully. "How else do you think I set up all those pranks? But back to—"

"Did our shipwright friend have anything else to say, yoi?" Marco interjected.

Thatch nodded. "He gave me all the details he could about how he got the vessel and let me look through what was left. I found this."

He handed Marco a note. The Phoenix flipped the dirty piece of paper open.

_Does only Namur think? Thatch really underestimates solitary travel. Truthfully, even Atmos cannot help._   _Bay endures where all renounce eventually. Then hope's eliminated. You are mistaken, Izo. You are miscalculating incessantly. No ovations. Merely isolation._

_Fire Fist_

_P.S. Seriously, Thatch. Go. Home._

"…What the  _hell_?" Marco asked.

"Annndddd the brat has officially lost it." Haruta decided.

Bay took the paper and frowned at it. Her eyes stopped scanning the page, focusing on a single sentence, and Marco had a feeling he knew which one. Her lips thinned into an unhappy expression.

"There's something here." She murmured. "He left this for a reason."

"Did he have access to invisible ink?" Thatch asked.

"Not as far as I know unless he bought some here, yoi." Marco said.

"Why does it matter?" Haruta demanded. "Brat's fine. He got a ride. Can we go home?" His scowl deepened. "He didn't even return our ship."

"We all know getting Ace to land wasn't our real goal." Thatch said, shaking his head.

"You  _still_  want to make him join us?" Haruta demanded. "He obviously doesn't want to."

The chef lowered the paper, pinning his brother with a piercing stare. "I promised the kid I wouldn't give up on him." He stated. "I am going to keep that promise."

Haruta looked away first. "Good luck with that. He's nothing more than an assassin, a liar, and a  _thief_."

Izo grimaced.

Marco sighed. "Haru—"

"Technically we're all liars and assassins and thieves if you think about it." Thatch interrupted cheerfully, not missing a beat.

Haruta's eye twitched. "He stole food."

"I gave that to him."

"He stole a boat!"

"We have others."

"He stole our  _dog_."

"You know Stefan likes to sneak onboard. He does it all the time. The kid probably didn't know he had a stowaway until it was too late. But you're right. Our dog is with him. Oh darn, we'll have to find the kid to get our one and only Stefan back."

Haruta threw his hands up into the air. "You're insufferable."

"I'm willing to listen whenever you want to talk." Thatch shot back.

Haruta's shoulders stiffened. "I'll get the ship ready." He muttered and hurried down the pier.

The other Whitebeards watched him vanish into the cabin.

Marco kneaded his forehead. "Thatch—"

"Uh oh. I recognize the lecturing tone." The chef said, unbothered.

"You shouldn't antagonize him." Marco… lectured.  _Dammit Thatch._

"Antagonizing is what he needs." Thatch said, smile in place but tone serious. "He's bottling things up. I want him to explode at me so he'll tell me what's eating him." The chef shook his head, dragging his hand through his hair. "He shouldn't be this against Ace joining us. He's acting like—" Thatch paused, eyes going round. " _Ohhhhh_."

"What is it?" Izo asked.

Thatch raised a hand, stalling any more questions. "I think I know. I'll talk to Haruta later."

He met Marco's eyes, a message in his gaze that the Phoenix did not fully understand. But he trusted his brother so he nodded. "Alright, yoi."

The Whitebeards headed back towards their vessel, the wood of the pier creaking beneath their feet.

"So Ace is in a sub with an unknown party somewhere." Bay brought up casually. "What do we do now?"

Marco grimaced, looking out over the endless blue sea. "We look the old-fashioned way. The kid has to pop up somewhere, yoi. And when he does, we'll find him."

OPOPOPOPOP

_The world burned._

_Ace ran through the crackling flames without fear, similarly unaffected by the smoke that turned the air black. The fire did not so much as tickle his limbs, as harmless to him as simple dirt, but he was one of the few people with that kind of immunity. The twenty-three year-old man spun in a circle, surrounded by an endless sea of crackling orange, and cried out desperately for the one he sought._

" _LUFFY!"_

_His brother did not answer. Ace launched himself over a crate, heading deeper into the burning Whole Cake Island, his voice lost over the burning trees. He did not know how this had happened. Luffy always made it out of Big Mom's territory okay, with or without Ace's interference. But this time something had gone terribly wrong, and the Yonko had simply used Prometheus to burn everything to the ground._

_Ace could not find anyone among the inferno. Once, he might hope the innocent had successfully fled. Now, he did not care for strangers. He had to find Luffy and the others. They might be safe somewhere—_ You know they're already dead _. He could rescue them—_ They couldn't survive this _. Maybe he could figure out a way to protect them from the flames and lead them out—_ It's too late.

_Ace ignored logic and stumbled through burning trees and into the ruins of Big Mom's castle. A chunk of stone fell in his path but he did not feel it, the larger pieces falling through him as if he were nothing more than a ghost. Ironically, he was likely the only things alive in this fiery hell, with everyone else fleeing or— or de—_

_But not Luffy. Luffy was here somewhere, but he was alive. He wasn't dead. Not again. He was so strong now. He was ready to face a Yonko and save his crewmate._

_Luffy would be fine._

_He would be fine._

_He'd be—_

_Crimson dripped onto the ground, bubbling and sizzling as it hit the overheated earth. Rubble covered a single rubbery limb, leaving the rest surprisingly untouched, but a single glance told Ace all he needed to know. He choked on a strangled wail, rushing to Luffy's side, and sank to his knees beside his brother, unable to tear his gaze away from the heated piece of rebar sticking from his chest. Shaking hands touched pale, sweaty skin and Luffy's body lurched, dark eyes snapping open._

_Confused, dazed eyes landed on Ace and Luffy smiled weakly. "You're… here…" he mumbled. "Thought you were… supposed to be in…" He coughed and red bubbled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin._

_Ace shushed him softly, glaring at the rebar. He had to do something with it so he could carry Luffy to safety, even though he had seen similar wounds enough times to know there would be no way to—_

_No. Luffy would live this time._

_He would live he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_ _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live_   _he would live he would live he would live—_

_Ace fought against the mantra that tried to drag him into blind madness, gripping his brother's hand. Luffy did not appear to recall he was there, staring at the burning ceiling with a slightly perplexed expression._

" _Pudding… did something." he mumbled. "She pulled a memory from that weird chef guy. Big Mom froze. We thought we could get her, but then she got really sad and mad and burned everything… even herself." A shudder went through him. "It rained fire. Do you think you could make it rain fire, Ace?"_

_Ace couldn't answer._

_Luffy said nothing else. There were no goodbyes, no big revelations or promises, no requests for Ace to look out for his crew or become Pirate King in his stead. Instead, there was only silence, and fire and blood and unseeing eyes._

_Too late, Ace melted the metal rebar sticking out of his brother's back, taking extra care not to burn Luffy's already burnt skin. He carefully lifted his brother's body, clinging to it in the desperate hope that the flames would not take it from him too._

_To his surprise, the fire curled around Luffy harmlessly, leaving him untouched. Ace swallowed roughly, rose to his feet, and did not cry. Tears were pointless. So was considering what he could have done differently this time. All Ace could do was bury his little brother and start all over again._

Ace could not breathe. The shift from horrific memories to blind panic left him paralyzed, and he emerged from sleep to a world of hazy grey as  _something_  caught in his throat and refused to leave. He rolled off of the surface he was laying on—  _bed, it was a bed, of course it was a bed what else would it be?_ — and landed on the hard ground—  _wooden floors? A ship? Where was he, where—?_

A low whining reached his roaring ears and something wet and slightly cold bumped his hand. Ace recoiled—  _Attack? No pain. No poison? Safe?_ — back smacking into something hard. Though it was almost lost under the sound of his harsh breathing, the whining grew louder, closer. The cold thing nudged his hand again, accompanied by a warm gust of air. Breathing. Cold thing. Whining.

_Stefan._

The grey fog faded away and Ace recognized where he was. He was on Koala's submarine. He was with Stefan. No one he loved was dead.

_Breathe or laugh or scream._

Ace laughed like a man being strangled. Stefan flinched, ears flattening and tail dipping as he backed up a step. Ace swallowed the rest of the hysterical giggles that wanted to burst from him.

"Sorry, buddy." He rasped, throat aching.

He must have screamed in his sleep again. No wonder Stefan looked ready to bolt. The dog quickly overcame his unease and trotted over to Ace, prodding him again and whining. Ace glanced at the sun and noticed it was rather late. Stefan must be hungry. Ace didn't want to get off the floor. If he had not fallen out of it, the teen was sure he wouldn't be out of bed. His limbs were too heavy and his every sense seemed dull, like he was viewing the world through muddy water.

Ace leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. He might have sat there for a few minutes, or even hours, but Stefan poked him again, forcing him back into his body. If the dog were human, Ace was certain he would be frowning. Instead, Stefan butted his arm with his head, giving a low bark.

_Stefan's hungry. I should feed him._

Ace got off the floor. He walked over to the kitchen for some food, secretly relieved Koala was not there. He got out some for Stefan. He gave it to the happy dog. He stumbled back to bed and curled up under the of providing him comfort, the blankets weighed down on him, pinning him to the bed like Seastone chains.

_Oh. It's going to be one of_ _**those** _ _days. Great._

Ace turned onto his side and saw Stefan had stopped eating. Instead he looked at Ace expectantly. Oh. Stefan usually ate when family members did. He was trained that way to prevent him from devouring everything that caught his interest. There were too many dangerous things on a pirate ship for him to attempt to consume, and just like he found a way onto boats going on missions, Stefan  _would_  find a way to said dangerous things and would see if they were edible.

The dog's ingrained obedience would not last forever, but it would take a while for him to start eating alone, even though he had clearly been given food. The thought made Ace's stomach twist.

_I need to eat too._

Ace got up again and retrieved a bit of bread. He bit it and it tasted like ash, though he knew it really didn't. It wasn't bad bread, so it was fine and great but  _damn it all there was_ _ **nothing wrong**_ _why was he already struggling why why why why why—?_

Ace forced the rest of the bread down and was relieved to see Stefan was eating. He should try to train the dog to accept food even when the teen could not eat or maybe have him stick around Koala for a bit. Today was the worst type of day, but no matter how much Ace wanted to stay trapped beneath the weights on his limbs, he refused to be negligent. Stefan needed him.

_He wouldn't need me if he was with the Whitebeards._

Ace curled up tighter under the blankets. He didn't have to worry about the Whitebeards anymore. They'd never find him here. It needed to be that way.

His body ached, his mind sank, and his senses remained dull but he couldn't let it keep him down. He wanted to stay in bed but knew he would just lay there, unable to sleep. He would not succumb to baseless misery and waste time. If he did, he'd come to regret it, due to external forces or simply his own internalized disgust.

Except there was nothing he could really do to be productive. There were no deadlines to meet. There was no vengeance to be had. Koala was driving the sub, and there was little he could do for their mission at the moment. But that did not mean he could allow himself to wallow in self-pity.

_Keep moving forward. Don't look back._

Ace got up again and went to the control room, where he knew Koala would be. It was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. She'd likely notice something was wrong. He hesitated at the base of the ladder, leaning his head against it with a sigh. He had to climb up in one bad idea, or remain here and sink alone. He  _knew_  what happened if he sank alone with no one around to anchor him.

Madness, misery, or mutilation.

_Pick your poison._

Ace climbed the ladder.

Koala spun in her chair, surprised expression morphing into a cheerful one.

"Hey." Ace grunted.

"Hello." She greeted. "Do you need something?"

"Nah, I just decided to sit in here today." Ace said vaguely.

She blinked, startled, before shooting him a welcoming grin. "There's a seat there with your name on it."

"You took the time to stich my name into it? Sounds like a waste of energy but thank you." Ace said dryly.

Koala snorted and turned back to the ocean. "So, do you want to talk or do you prefer silence?"

"You can talk if you want. I'll listen." He said.

"I don't really feel like talking right now." Koala commented.

Ace laughed. To his relief, it didn't sound too hollow or manic. "Same here."

He sat down in 'his' chair and Stefan laid down next to his legs, warm fur pressing against the skin of his calf. He focused on that, and the feel of the leather, and the slight burning in his back, but resisted the urge to push his torso against the chair and make the stinging stronger. Marco would disapprove.

_Well Marco isn't here, is he? No one is because I shoved them away._

Ace took a breath and closed his eyes, listening to the hum of the engines, Stefan's breathing, and the rustle of Koala's clothes whenever she moved. Mindless distractions were better than his pity party. He made his decisions. Now he had to stick to them. Images of blood and fire danced behind his eyes but he shoved everything away. Everything. The memories, the sounds, the smells, the feelings, everything went far far far far far far far far away where it couldn't touch him—

"Ace? Ace!"

Ace's eyelids fluttered. His vision focused to reveal Koala's worried face. He sat up instantly, looking around the room but spotted nothing amiss. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Koala said hurriedly. "I just… I called you for a few minutes and you didn't answer."

There was something she wasn't saying. Ace had a feeling he knew what it was. If he'd appeared to be sleeping and was simply slow to wake, she wouldn't be so concerned. Most likely, his eyes had been open as he stared at nothingness. He'd sunk into his mind again. It happened sometimes. He'd be doing something and just…  _drift_  for a couple hours, emerging from his mind to discover he was not where he last remembered being.

Bay called it 'dissociation'.

Ace tried not to think about it.

"I must have fallen asleep." He said even though they both knew he hadn't been sleeping. "Sorry."

Koala's eyebrows scrunched together. "Okay." She agreed, not calling him out on his obvious lie. "It's past lunch time."

Yep. Ace had definitely drifted for a few hours. Great. He got out of his chair. "Cool. Let's go."

Stefan led the way to the kitchen, skidding around a corner and successfully sliding into a wall at high speeds. Ace sighed and jogged up to the dog, who happily staggered back to his feet without a care in the world.

"You're an idiot." He said flatly. "How many times are you going to do that before you learn?"

Stefan ran into the kitchen and smacked into the counter on the other side of the room.

"I'm going to change your name from 'Stefan' to 'Stupid'." Ace threatened. "Don't think I won't."

Stefan poked at the cupboard he knew held food with his nose.

Ace rolled his eyes. "Dumbass."

He knelt and got out food for the dog, himself, and Koala, tossing the girl some basic ingredients and cutlery. She caught them easily, setting them on the counter. One of the napkins fluttered and rested near the back of the stovetop.

"What do you want today?" she asked.

"Whatever you want." Ace said. "I'm still not picky."

"I've noticed that." Koala said, drumming her fingers on the countertop as she observed their available food. "This steak looks like it's about to go bad. How about I cook it now? We won't want to take the time to make it later."

"If you want." Ace stood up and grabbed some vegetables. "I'll heat these up." He eyes the bloody red steaks neutrally. "Do you even know how to cook that?"

Koala smirked and turned on the stove. "Well, I can—  _Shit!_ "

The napkin on the back of the stove caught fire. Koala instinctively grabbed it, freezing as she realized what she had done. She blinked, staring at the burning napkin as it turned into ashes in her palm. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"…Huh?"

Ace grabbed her hand, shoving the cooling ashes off and into the sink. "I was wrong." He said levelly, ignoring the pounding in his chest. "Stefan shouldn't be called 'Stupid'. That is your name, since you decided grabbing a burning napkin is a good idea. Oh, and if you want to kill me, just stab me in the heart. Don't try to give me a heart attack. It's not very efficient."

Koala flexed her unburned hand, gaping at it, before slowly looking at Ace. "Did you just…?"

"Hmm." Ace said vaguely, keeping his expression neutral. The alternative was showing and acknowledging his panic, which he happily locked behind steel doors with everything else he didn't feel like dealing with.

"I thought Logia could only turn their bodies into their element." Koala mentioned, still in a daze.

"That's basic. We can learn a few more tricks." Ace said.

"Including  _protecting_  people from your element?" Koala asked curiously.

"Hmm."

"Don't 'hmm' me." She muttered, but there was no fire behind the words.

Pfft. 'Fire'. Haha. Ace cracked himself up sometimes  _ **don't freak out she's fine—**_

"Fine, I won't ask." Koala said.

Ace forced himself to smile. He knew it failed to reach his eyes. "Thanks. How about I cook the steaks? And everything else."

Koala looked torn between amusement and mortification. "You're kicking me out of the kitchen, aren't you?"

"For my own peace of mind." Ace claimed in a bored voice.

Koala rolled her eyes and went back to the storage. "I can at least cut up the vegetables."

"Don't lose a finger." Ace begged flatly. "I will be sad and cry. It's not pretty. You don't want to see it."

Koala huffed. "I swear I wasn't this accident prone until you showed up."

Ace forced himself not to flinch. "Hmm."

"I  _wasn't_." Koala spluttered.

"I believe you." Ace said.

He ignored her indignation at his 'sarcastic' response and focused on not burning the meat, watching red juice drip from the steaks and bubble like Luffy's blood.


	16. Code Breaker

_Does only Namur think? Thatch really underestimates solitary travel. Truthfully, even Atmos cannot help._   _Bay endures where all renounce eventually. Then hope's eliminated. You are mistaken, Izo. You are miscalculating incessantly. No ovations. Merely isolation._

_Fire Fist_

_P.S. Seriously, Thatch. Go. Home._

The words mocked Bay. They bounced around her head and plagued her every thought, giving her a headache that threatened to split her skull. There was a message hidden in Ace's last note. She knew there was. The kid may be one of the nuttier people she associated herself with, but he had a habit of doing things for a reason. Why would he leave such an odd message if he did not intend them to look deeper into it?

Thus, Bay had spent countless days attempting to decode the letter. She had checked for invisible ink. She had held the letter over a flame. She had scrambled the words. She had thought back to every interaction and story she ever heard about the kid, associating them with the people named in the letter and trying to find correlation.

She came up with nothing.

Thus, the headache.

Bay squinted at the note, rubbing her forehead, and wondered if it was beneath her to bash her head against the desk. Her doctor side informed her of the many ways that was stupid and detrimental, so she reluctantly settled for pressing a palm to her skull. A paper filled with notes that led nowhere sat innocently beside the cursed letter, and she was beginning to grow tempted to throw the damn things into the fire just to have the satisfaction of watching them burn.

But she could not. Ace left this message for a  _reason_. She just had to figure it out.

Bay picked up her pen and tapped it on the desk. As far as she could tell, the letter was written in normal ink. Well, of  _course_  it was. Ace did not have access to much on that boat, only what he grabbed before he left the Moby Dick. In hindsight, attempting to look for invisible ink was a huge waste of time. Unless Ace bought it on the island— and why would any of the locals of a fishing village have invisible ink?— he would not have any.

His options were limited and he was clearly in a rush, so perhaps a more obvious code was the answer. Bay flipped her pen between her fingers, taking in the words of the letter again. Maybe if she used all the capital letters? She pulled the page of notes over, jotting them down.

DNTTABTYIYNM

Bay released all of her breath in a long, slow gust so she would not scream. It was still nothing but gibberish. Unless it was a code to some unknown location or thing, she was no closer to figuring the infuriating secret message out. Her ire spiked and she smashed her fists into the tabletop with a bang, grinding her teeth. This was ridiculous. Ace was not doing this simply to annoy them, was he? That was a tactic Thatch would use, but not when there was a chance the message inside was  _important_. Except Ace was really determined to stop their pursuit of him. Would he use petty and irritating tricks to try to make them call it quits?

_Maybe this is a waste of time._

Bay sighed, lowering her head and smacking it on her clenched fist. The joint of her thumb jabbed into her forehead but she was past caring. She opened her eyes, glowering at her notes, and blinked. Her right hand covered part of her hastily-written letters, leaving the first three exposed.

DNT

Don't.

" _Does only Namur think?"_

Bay could slap herself.  _I'm an idiot._

"Marco!" she called.

After a short pause, he poked his head into the room. "Yes?"

"Tell me I'm an idiot." Bay commanded.

A blond eyebrow rose and Marco leaned against the doorframe. "May I ask why, yoi?"

"I made this more complicated then it needed to be instead of looking for the simpler answers." Bay said flatly, every bit of her annoyance dripping into her voice.

Marco ignored her agitation, eyes lighting up. "You figured out the message?" He entered the room and approached the desk, leaning over her shoulder.

"Yes. I figured it out." Bay growled.

"You do not sound pleased." Marco mentioned dryly.

"I've spent days twisting my mind in knots trying to figure out some grand, mysterious cipher when Ace used  _elementary_  coding." Bay stressed. "We both know Ace could do better and is paranoid enough to make a cipher decoders would agonize over, but instead he did  _this_." She jabbed a finger at the offending page and growled. "I don't  _understand_."

Marco coughed into his palm. "Maybe he knew we would look for something complex first instead of the obvious code, yoi."

"Little brat. I— I spent  _days_  working on this and the answer was obvious." Bay muttered with a scowl. " _Stop smirking, you overgrown turkey!_ " She snapped when Marco's lips twitched.

Bay grabbed a new page and smacked her chuckling brother on the head with it before setting it back down. She wrote the first letter of every word, disregarding everything after the main note. Words flew onto the page, leaving a nice,  _coherent_  message and Bay smiled triumphantly… only to realize what it said.

Marco abruptly stopped chuckling, his mirth smothered by shock. Like steel gates slamming shut, his expression closed off, his emotions hidden behind a neutral mask. To Bay, that was almost worse than seeing confusion or horror. Because that was not the face of her laid-back brother. That was the face of the First Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, and he was taking the short, alarming message seriously.

_Don't trust Teach. Beware the Yami Yami No Mi._

The door to the office creaked open and Thatch sauntered in, a cheerful, mischievous grin in place. "Hey, have either of you seen Haruta? He's avoiding me since he knows I know what's bother—" He caught wind of the tension in the room and his smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"Bay decoded Ace's message, yoi." Marco said levelly, handing the chef the page.

Thatch scanned it and blanched. His hand fell limply to his side, fingers crinkling the paper. "Teach? Wha— What does  _Teach_  have to do with anything? And the Yami Yami No Mi?"

"I don't know." Bay said when Marco did not answer. She glanced hesitantly at the quiet Phoenix. "Did Ace ever meet Teach?"

Marco slowly shook his head. "Teach was away on a mission when Ace arrived, and still gone when he left, yoi."

"How does Ace know about Teach, then?" Thatch asked, flabbergasted.

"I don't know." Bay said when Marco remained silent.

"Why shouldn't we trust Teach?" Thatch asked, faintly.

"I don't know."

"Teach has been a Whitebeard since he was  _sixteen_." Thatch stressed. " _Why_  can't we trust him?"

"I  _don't know_ , Thatch." Bay hissed snappishly.

Rather than recoil or tease her for her tone, Thatch stared at her with a hauntingly hollow expression.

"It must have something to do with the Yami Yami no Mi, yoi." Marco murmured. "Why else would Ace mention that specific Devil Fruit as well?"

Thatch's features grew pinched. "I… I don't…" He set the paper on the table and backed away like it was poisoned. "What do we do?"

It had been a long time since Bay heard the jovial chef sound so lost. She herself was not sure what she felt. The message was one of the last things she expected— No, that was wrong. She  _never_  expected the message to be a warning saying they could not trust one of their  _brothers_. Yet paired with her suspicions about Ace's possible premonitions, she could not simply dismiss the warning. Nor could she decide what they should do. So she and Thatch looked to Marco, leaving the decision to him.

The Phoenix lowered his head, covering his eyes with his hand as he silently rubbed his forehead. They let him think, standing quietly by as the silence stretched on. Bay's eyes drifted back to the ominous warning with the reluctance of someone who could not turn away from a violent tragedy. She did not need to look, but could not stop herself. The words were already burned into her thoughts like a brand.

Finally, Marco let his hand drop. His features were slightly pale, but Bay recognized the unyielding look in his eyes. "We need to tell Oyaji."

"Tell him  _what_ , exactly?" Bay had to ask. "That Ace warned us Teach might betray us? Yes, he wants Ace to be a part of our family, but Teach has been our brother for  _years_. I doubt Oyaji will believe it."

"Which is probably why Ace did not say anything directly to us. The others wouldn't believe him." Thatch mumbled.

Marco and Bay exchanged a glance.

"Thatch…?" the doctor asked hesitantly.

The chef flinched. He crossed his arms and stared blankly at the floor. "I… I don't see why Ace would  _say_  something like this if there wasn't a bit of truth to it." His face crumpled. "I'm trusting Ace's word more than our brother."

Bay made to put a hand on his shoulder but he recoiled, arms still tightly crossed over his chest. His fingers gripped his elbows tightly enough that they turned white. Seeing that, Bay slowly comprehended what Ace's secret message might mean. They could not trust Teach. Such a warning was not given simply to foretell of the risk of a minor betrayal. It was not for a small instance where Teach could not be trusted to fight at their side, or trusted to go back for them if they needed help. It foretold of something much,  _much_  more malicious.

Putting it together with her other suspicions about Ace, and that 'something' might bring about the deaths of countless siblings, and maybe even Whitebeard himself.

Marco's gaze sharpened and Bay knew he realized the same as her. "Even if Oyaji does not believe it, he will watch Teach more closely, even if only a little." A tendon quivered in his clenched jaw. "That could make all the difference."

Bay nodded slowly.

Thatch was not so easily appeased. "Teach  _can't_  be a traitor." He whispered.

Bay could not find something to say to comfort him. Marco had a similar dilemma, for he only clasped Thatch's shoulder, departing without another word.

OPOPOPOPOP

The ocean seemed louder at night. Perhaps it was because most people were asleep and thus oblivious to the world when it was dark, leaving no one to make noise or start conversations or do the many jobs required for an information outpost on a small island by the sea. The tall, average-looking building stood alone atop a rocky cliff, smugly proud as it overlooked the frothing sea below. The waves roared as they crashed into the rocks, spray flicking angrily into the air as the water tried desperately to destroy the structure far out of its reach.

Ace could relate. But unlike the ocean, he was far from confined. As he climbed out of the sub, he jumped carelessly over the waves and to the small sandy space at the bottom of the cliff, dancing away from the water as it tried to grab him. Koala landed next to him, opening her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand.

"One second." He jumped back to the sub, opening the hatch and peering down into it. Stefan froze on the ladder and smiled dopily at him. Ace was not amused. " _Stay_ , Stefan." He warned. "And don't cause trouble."

He ignored the dog's 'mournful' whine and shut the hatch again, returning to the shore. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, peering up at the building he could barely see far above.

"I know it's a bit late, but do you have qualms about killing?" Ace asked casually.

It was telling how well she had grown to know him— and wasn't  _that_  going to be an issue later— that Koala did not even blink. "No."

"Okay." Ace said. "That makes this easier."

"Don't burn the outpost down." Koala warned.

"I wasn't going to." Ace claimed. "Yet."

He did not bother lowering his voice for that last comment, and shot Koala an innocent smile when she glowered at him.

Koala rolled her eyes. "Just  _go_."

Ace nodded. "Meet you at the top."

He turned into fire and shot up the side of the cliff. The roar of the ocean covered the roar of his flames and he landed lightly on the edge of the island, cocking his head as he studied their target. The slavers' station proudly proclaimed it was an agency of the Public Employment Security Office on its front, and seemingly had no more security than a humane if wealthy business would.

_Sucks for them._

Ace eyed the stone wall surrounding the building and closed his eyes, getting a feel for the closest guards' positions. He calmly propelled himself to the top just as the guard passed by. The man's eyes barely had time to widen before Ace turned him to ashes, the flames making the softest  _whoosh_  that would be mistaken for the sea.

He stepped over the pile of dust and dropped, landing in the grassy yard around the office. He could hear guards around the corner but left them alone for now, walking towards the side of the building with the casualness of someone strolling through a park. He caught sight of the front gate and slowed, noting the fountain of a swan up front.

Ah. He remembered this place now. He had gotten information from this exact outpost maybe… seventy, eighty times? The paperwork they wanted was in the basement, then.

Ace approached the building, scanning it, and spotted an exhaust port near the ground. It was only four inches by four inches wide, with a slotted grate over it, but he would fit easily. Ace turned into fire and slipped between the cracks, making his way through the pipes. He fit through the openings with ease. Being a Logia truly was beneficial for sneaking into places. The hardest part was not touching anything and burning it, but he'd become proficient long ago.

Ace exited the pipe and dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch between tall, grey filing cabinets. He scanned the area and dove behind a cabinet as a light flickered nearby. The guard whistled to himself as he passed, never noticing the teen skulking in the shadows. Ace watched him expressionlessly, hand slightly raised as it followed the guard's path until he was out of sight. He waited for the man's steps to retreat before moving, heading down the line of cabinets until he reached one close to the end.

Ace picked the lock on the bottom drawer and pulled it out. It squeaked and he paused, holding his breath. The guard did not come running, so he quickly lit a hand, scanning the latest dates on the files. Immediately, he frowned. This cabinet held the some of the latest transactions, but the dates were too early. Anything about the ship Revolutionary-Sabo was currently on had not been filed yet. It was elsewhere.

Ace withheld an irritated sigh and shut the drawer, locking it. He waited for the guard to pass before running to the basement door. He slipped through the iron bars that served as a window and headed upstairs. At least the steps were stone, decreasing the chance of them creaking. He made it to the floor on the ground level, pausing and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He spotted a vent and dove into it just as a guard rounded a corner.

Reforming on the next level, Ace looked out the window to see he was higher than the wall. He briefly lit a hand, flaring the flames three times, and moved on. If Koala stayed in the position she said she would, she saw the discussed message. He was not about to wait around to make sure.

There were no guards outside of the main office. Ace would have laughed at the arrogance if it did not anger him so greatly. This outpost acted and functioned like a legitimate business, complete with rather lackadaisical security, because as far as they were concerned, they had nothing to hide. Even if their paperwork was decoded and their immoral practices exposed, their crimes would be brushed under the rug.

They would be pardoned, while  _real_  innocents would be prosecuted without question.

Flames flared at Ace's shoulders but he smothered them instantly. He promised Koala he would not burn the place down until they had what they needed. He slipped below the door of the office and reformed in a burst of flames.

A man sat at the desk inside. He jumped up, eyes going wide but Ace incinerated him before he could speak. Ace caught a glimpse of what he was working on and picked it up, studying it more closely. It was a list of 'merchandise' from a prior auction.

Ace knew the language from previous loops, and had to force himself not to think back to the last times he had seen a list like this. According to the paperwork, fifty 'primates'— Humans— two 'barrels of chum'— Fishmen— three 'exotic fish species'— mermaids with an unsplit tail— and an 'elephant'— a giant— had been sold. He set the paper down and placed his hands on the desk, lowering his head briefly. That auction was back in the Sabaody Archipelago, and far from where Revolutionary-Sabo's captors would go.

It was not part of his mission, but that did not stop him from wishing he could resurrect the bureaucrat so he could incinerate him again. Ace heard movement outside and circled the desk, unlocking the door and opening it. Koala froze, arm raised to deliver a punch.

Ace opened the door wider. "Did you have any trouble?"

"No. The guards did not notice me." Koala huffed and walked past him, letting him shut the door again. "I saw your signal. The papers aren't downstairs?"

"Nope." Ace said, popping the 'p'.

Koala frowned at him. "Are you s—?"

"Yep."

She still looked unconvinced. "How did you find the office so quickly?"

"I've snuck around places like this before. I know my way around." Ace said vaguely. He saw her glance towards the door. "Don't be so nervous. It's unlikely the guards will come here. Some bureaucrat guy was working on stuff in here. I doubt he'd want interruptions."

Instead of calming her, Koala eyed the door more warily. "Where is the bureaucrat now?"

"Ashes." Ace said bluntly.

Koala stared at him, gaze dropping to a pile of dust nearby. "Oh."

Ace frowned. "He and the guards are knowingly part of the slave trade. Don't feel bad for them."

"I don't." she said firmly.

Ace believed her. He nodded. "Just making sure."

He headed over to the desk and startled rifling through the drawers, fingers skimming over files and pages. He paused and pulled out a thick binder, laying it flat on the table, and flipped through. The bureaucrat was nice enough to sort them by auction, so he skipped to the one they suspected Revolutionary-Sabo's ship would be headed to, checking for the ship. It was not there, so he checked the other auctions in the area. Eventually, he struck gold.

"Found it." Ace said. "It's a good thing we headed here instead of the closest auction. The ship is headed to an auction on the Twisting Islands."

Koala leaned over his shoulder to look and her expression pinched. "The Twisting Islands? It'll take us  _weeks_  to reach them."

"It'll take  _them_  weeks, too." Ace pointed out.

"Yes, but the Twisting Islands are named that for a  _reason_." Koala emphasized. "They—"

"—are surrounded by dangerous whirlpools and other  _fun_  weather phenomena, yes." Ace finished idly, not intimidated. "Trust me, it's not that scary once you go through a few times."

Koala stared at him, slowly shaking her head. He could see her struggling to keep her composure as she realized just how far away her Sabo was. Ace felt a twinge of sympathy for her. He knew what it was like to lose someone to slavers and spend frantic weeks trying to track them down before it was too late.

"I'm sure he'll be alive." He murmured.

Koala started and gave a watery chuckle. "You know, people usually say 'I'm sure he'll be okay.'"

Ace shrugged and forced away memories of his  _loved one's still, emancipated forms and dull, broken eyes as they quietly begged him to end their suffering—_ "I don't like to sugarcoat. Or give unrealistic expectations."

"I've noticed." Koala put the paper back, hesitating as she looked at the ashes of the bureaucrat. They were already blending into the dust on the floor. "They'll know someone was here."

"Most likely, but they won't know it was us." He opened the door, gesturing out. "After you."

Koala walked out, shooting him a startled look as she passed. "You aren't going to start torching the building?"

"Nope." Ace said. "Trust me, I  _want_  to. But if we leave without more trouble, it'll be a strange but isolated incident. If we burn the place down, it'll be a  _statement_  I'm not ready to make."

He could see the questions in her eyes but she did not ask him. They entered the dark, silent hall, and while Koala crouched and moved with extreme caution, Ace walked in the open, hands in his pockets. He could feel her bewildered— and frustrated— eyes on him and chuckled lowly.

"You don't have to sneak around." He told her. "There are no guards in this section. As long as we don't make something fall over we should be fine."

Koala slowly straightened though she failed to lose her tense stance. "This is too easy." She said tightly. "We shouldn't be able to walk out like this."

Ace snorted. "Trust me, it's only easy because I know what I'm doing. I'm an expert at infiltration." He  _had_  to become one in order to reach his more-protected targets. Forcing his way through armies of lackeys got tiring after a while. Not physically, but mentally. Besides, it was more efficient to go straight for the source unless he wanted his enemy to know he was coming,

She rolled her eyes at his apparent boast. "Please, don't put yourself down like that." She said sarcastically. "Your ego could use some more inflation."

"Why, thank you." Ace said with equal sarcasm. "Now come on. Let's leave before something goes wrong."


	17. Family Ties

Namur whistled a jaunty tune as he meandered through the lower decks of the Moby Dick, the two buckets in his hands swinging with every step. The soapy water inside them sloshed and he was almost tempted to put them over a doorway and see who got drenched.

It had become rather quiet without Thatch, Marco and Haruta around. There were no pranks being pulled, no irate shouting when Thatch made one too many bird jokes, and no wars being waged due to a breach of the pranksters' code. Hell, Namur was even beginning to miss the fire kid and his daily battles with Whitebeard. The Fishman Commander was not one to disturb the peace but maybe just this once… Nah. He'd wait until a time if his family's spirits needed to be lifted. He'd end up dumping the water on himself anyway.

_Puru puru puru._

Namur slowed as he heard the telltale ringing of a Den Den Mushi. He frowned to himself. He was near Oyaji's room, not the communications room, and Oyaji's Den Den was only rarely used. The sound it was making was not an emergency signal either. So who was calling? Namur set down the buckets and went into the room. The Den Den rang insistently and he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

" _Hello, Namur."_

The Fishman smiled. "Marco. It's been a while."

" _No, it has not been, yoi."_  Marco said dryly, but he sounded distracted, as if he was only going through the motions of the conversation.

Namur leaned against the desk and tapped his foot on the floor. "Any updates on the kid?"

" _Still tracking him, yoi."_  Marco said vaguely.  _"I need to speak with Oyaji."_

The abrupt end of pleasantries instantly put Namur on guard. "He's on the upper deck. I can get him."

" _Please be subtle."_  Marco stressed testily.

A pit opened in Namur's stomach. "Alright."

He set the receiver down and hurried out, keeping a brisk but casual pace. He weaved through the lower deck of the Moby Dick and headed outside. The sun's rays stabbed his retinas and he grimaced, covering his face to allow his eyes time to adjust. As soon as he was no longer blinded, he headed over to Whitebeard's large chair.

The Yonko sat beneath the sun, head leaned back and eyes closed as he enjoyed the peaceful day. The crew and even the nurses seemed content to leave the Yonko to his own devices for once, though the latter's generosity may have something to do with the lack of booze in Whitebeard's presence. Namur loathed having to interrupt but delaying would honestly be stupid at best. And fatal at worst if Marco's message was important.

_Of course it is important. He's trying to contact Oyaji directly instead of going through communications._

Namur tapped Whitebeard's leg. The Yonko opened his eyes and smiled down at him. His smile quickly faded upon seeing the Fishman's face. Namur took note of his deepened scowl and took a moment to sigh. Subtle, he was not. He gestured to his father and Whitebeard leaned over so Namur could whisper in his ear.

"Marco called the Den Den in your room. He needs to talk to you."

Whitebeard's expression did not change but Namur knew he got the implied message. He inclined his head and rose from his seat, following Namur back to his room where the Den Den waited patiently. Well, not quite  _patiently_. Its eyes were noticeably narrowed and a slight frown twisted its mouth as if it had been carved there. Namur pictured such an expression on Marco's face and his unease tripled. Whitebeard picked up the receiver.

"Hello, my son." he greeted calmly. "What is it you wished to tell me?"

" _Is anyone else there?"_ Marco asked.

"Only Namur and myself."

" _Are you_ _ **sure**_ _? Is_ _ **anyone**_ _nearby?"_  Marco stressed.

Whitebeard's brow crinkled. "Marco, it is unlike you to be so mistrustful of your brothers."

" _I know."_  Marco admitted.  _"But this is very sensitive information, Oyaji. It_ _ **must**_ _stay between us for now."_

Whitebeard's lips dipped in displeasure but he relented. "Very well."

" _Oyaji..."_ Marco hesitated before continuing. _"Ace gave us a warning to not trust Teach."_

"You caught up to the kid?" Namur asked hopefully. It took a moment for the rest of Marco's message to register. "He said  _what?_ "

" _His exact message was 'Don't trust Teach. Beware the Yami Yami no Mi.'"_  In all the years of knowing him, Namur had never heard Marco sound as drained as he did when he said those words.  _"He knew we were tracking him and left that message in code for us to find, yoi. It wasn't the first message either, though the other one merely told Thatch to go home."_

Unable to sort through the tangled yarn of emotions that swamped him, Namur glanced at Whitebeard for guidance. His father was completely silent, with no emotion on his face.

The Fishman took the opportunity to ask his the first questions that popped into his head. "How does Ace know Teach exists? How did he know Thatch was following him?"

" _We wondered the same thing."_  Marco hesitated briefly.  _"Before getting the message, Bay had a theory. We think_ _Ace_ _may have some type of premonitory ability."_

"You think the kid can  _see the future_?" Namur blurted.

The Den Den shot him a disapproving look.  _"We've seen stranger powers before. Bay has a theory that the kid saw us die if he joined our crew so that's why he's so…_ _ **determined**_ _to keep away from us, yoi."_

Namur wanted to say that was crazy. That it was impossible. But Marco would not share this information if he did not think there was some truth to it. Again, he looked to Whitebeard, and finally his father's face had changed. His eyes were dark, and his expression cold. Namur could almost  _feel_  the air cracking around him— thankfully not literally.

"You think Ace is telling the truth that Teach is a threat to us." Whitebeard did not speak the words as a question, but as a statement, unyielding and harsh.

The Den Den nodded, eye stalks bobbing.  _"Yes, Oyaji."_

Marco did not clarify that he thought there was 'some truth' to Ace's message, or that Ace was not the type of person to lie about this, or that  _maybe_  Ace was mistaken. He merely said he believed Ace. That was more telling than any explanation or persuasion he could give. Whitebeard went silent again. The icy look in his eyes did not fade. Namur wondered what he was thinking.

Was he angry that Teach might be a traitor?  _It could not be true. Teach had been their brother for years._ Or was he reconsidering his view of Ace? If so, in what way? Was he wondering about the boy who claimed to hate them yet was trying to save their lives? Or was he thinking—  _hoping_ — Ace might be a liar because the alternative meant one of their own—  _Why would Teach ever hurt his family? It made no sense._ — that  _one of their own_  may betray them?

Namur did not know what to think. Ace did not seem like the type to lie about something like this. He'd rather act standoffish and use alternative means to shove them away.

" _There's nothing to go on except Ace's word."_  Marco continued tersely as the silence stretched on.  _"But considering Bay's theory and…"_ Again, he hesitated. _"..._ _other factors, I think we should err on the side of caution."_

Once again, Whitebeard sensed what he did not say. "You think we should have someone spy on Teach."

Marco winced.  _"Yes. If nothing is amiss, then we've invaded a brother's privacy and… and shown we don't trust him."_ Namur could hear the discontent in his voice at the thought.  _"But if something_ _ **is**_ _amiss..."_ He trailed off, unable or unwilling to go on.

"If Ace is correct about Teach's false allegiances, then Teach will be dealt with accordingly." Whitebeard finished coldly. He gripped the Den Den delicately in order not to break it, large fingers quivering from the strain. "We will watch Teach. Your mission has become even more important, my son. You must find Portgas D. Ace and discover what he knows, and how he came to gain this information."

" _Yes, Oyaji."_  Marco said.

OPOPOPOPOP

As two pranksters that were often at war, Haruta and Thatch were good at avoiding each other. It came out of necessity, because each knew if they walked into the others' pranks, they would never live it down. They hid in closets and storage rooms, climbed in unexpected places, and had clung to the side of the Moby Dick once or twice though that last one got Marco screeching.

Needless to say, Haruta was good at avoiding Thatch when he wanted to. Unluckily for him, Thatch was even better at tracking him down. That, and they were on a very small vessel. Haruta did not have many ideal places to hide. It took a while, but Thatch located Haruta in a small storage room filled with rope and extra rigging.

"There you are." Thatch said brightly, ignoring the way Haruta's shoulders tensed. "I've been looking all over for you. Have you been here all day?" He glanced around the tiny room and raised an eyebrow. "What have you been up to in here? Plotting without me?"

Haruta did not look at him. His posture remained stiff. "No. I just wanted to be left alone."

Thatch bobbed his head in a nod and plopped down next to his brother amidst the coils. He picked up a rope and bounced it between his hands, watching it bob up and down. "You got it. So, do you want to talk about why you're upset with Ace yet?" Thatch's eyes narrowed and his smile slipped slightly. "Or do I need to bring it up myself?"

Haruta's teeth clenched audibly and he did not respond to him.

"I really don't want to bring it up myself." Thatch continued. "Because I know the topic upsets you. And if I'm wrong and your grumpiness has nothing to do with—"

"I'm not 'grumpy'." Haruta growled.

Thatch raised an eyebrow at him and his scowl deepened. The chef settled more comfortably among the rope and patted a space beside him.

"Talk to me, Haruta." he requested. "As your brother— and fellow prankster— it's my duty to listen to you. I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Haruta did not move from his spot. "You  _know_  what's wrong." he snapped. "It's that fire  _brat_. We offered him a place with us yet he treated us like scum on his boot. Worse than that, he  _hurt_  Oyaji. He  _injured_  him. A  _Yonko_. Yet you insist on coddling him." Haruta glared at Thatch with cold blue eyes. "He's  _not_  a stray puppy. He's  _dangerous_. Why can't any of you see that? Why can't you see he isn't worth our time?"

Thatch's amiable look faded into a solemn stare. "Nice speech, but that's not your problem with Ace and you  _know_ it."

Haruta twitched and his glare shifted to the wall. "It is too my 'problem' with him. He's a brat—"

"Your problem with him is that he reminds you of yourself. And seeing others' reactions to him make you wonder if they feel the same about you." Thatch finished.

Haruta abruptly stood up. His head was bowed and his fists clenched at his sides as he turned his back to the chef, his body trembling visibly. Thatch stood as well and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. When Haruta shoved his hand off, Thatch did not take it personally. Instead he softened his expression and tone.

"Haruta, you're our  _family_. Your past doesn't matter." Thatch hesitated. "Just because you were sent to kill Oyaji doesn't mean—"

Haruta was already out the door. It clicked shut behind him, leaving Thatch alone.

OPOPOPOPOP

"So this button brings us to the surface?"

"Yep."

"And this one is the emergency doors."

"That's right."

Ace sat back in his seat and hummed in acknowledgment. He took note of every button and switch on the console and their purposes, filing them away in his memory. If he had to drive the submarine he should be able to, but he appreciated being told how. It only made sense to be sure in case Koala was incapacitated and with Ace's luck she would be sometime.

The lessons also proved to be a nice distraction. For her, not him. He was not particularly bothered by the information they gained from the outpost but she was. She tried to hide how worried she was but Ace could read her like a book. Case in point, as soon as she thought he could not see her, her shoulders slumped slightly and she stared miserably out the window.

Ace could sympathize with her distress. It was not easy knowing a loved one was in the hands of monsters. But there was nothing they could do to hurry their journey along— not to mention he did not know the Revolutionary Sabo— so he did not let it bother him. He had enough issues. The thought of leaving Koala miserable made him uncomfortable though— Curse you, attachment— so he supposed he might as well try to get her out of her funk.

A light blinked on the console and he pointed at it.

"We need to surface."

Koala jumped, startled. "Huh? We do?" She looked at the blinking light in dazed befuddlement as her brow crinkled. "Oh. I did not notice how much time passed…"

"Join the club." Ace muttered, though secretly he hoped she didn't. Drifting while unaware of the passage of time was not fun. He gestured daintily at the controls. "After you."

Koala rolled her eyes and began to guide the sub upward. "We shouldn't have stayed under for so long." she murmured. "We're going to emerge near some islands."

"Populated?" Ace asked.

Koala grimaced. "Other than a Marine base, no."

Ace nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Should we attack it?"

Koala spluttered. " _No_."

"They're probably going to attack us as soon as they see us." Ace pointed out.

"Which is why we are going to avoid the base on the other side of the island and keep on going." Koala said tersely.

She leaned on the controls as she spoke and the sub sailed forward, skimming along the surface of the water. In the distance, Ace could see the outline of a tropical island covered in trees. Like Koala claimed, no Marine base was in sight.

Ace hummed in disagreement and considered the console. "Which one's for the weapons again?"

Koala sighed. "We're not picking a fight, Ace. We don't need to."

"It's not picking a fight." Ace said blandly. "It's preemptive self-defense."

"' _Preemptive_ —?" Koala shot him a dry look and shook her head. "You worry me sometimes."

Ace smiled. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment." Koala muttered. She pulled at the scope and peered around. "Look, as long as they don't know we're here we'll be fine. There's no strategical reason to attack the base and reveal ourselves."

"It's called 'preemptive self-defense'." Ace reminded her.

Koala's eye twitched. "That is not a thing."

"It is too."

Koala's next sigh ruffled her bangs. "If you see there's no danger will you relax?"

"Nope." Ace took the scope from an exasperated Koala, peering through it.

Around him he saw the empty ocean except for the island. He focused the scope on the treeline, noting the thick foliage weaved throughout the jungle. A splotch of white caught his eye and he made sure to sigh very loudly so Koala heard.

"Well, would you look at that. I spy with my little eye a Mari—"

The blob of white emerged out of the foliage, unmistakably facing the sub's scope, and Ace's sarcastic reply caught in his throat.

He recognized that Marine.

He would recognize him  _anywhere_.

Ace's heartbeat quickened, though it was not out of fear for himself. He decided he must have angered some type of God in his first life. There was no other reason why his luck was so bad. There was a whole big world out there.  _Thousands_  of islands.  _Endless_  oceans. And yet,  _somehow_ , he just so happened to run into the one island that had  _him_.

"How long until we can submerge?" Ace applauded himself for how calm his voice sounded, though that tone came at the cost of sounding urgent.

Koala shot him a confused look. "A few hours."

Ace nodded to himself. "Great. Then we need to go."

Koala caught on to his urgency. Her grip on the controls tightened. "What do you know?"

_Ace sat on a beach, knees digging into blood-covered sand. Around him, Marines and pirates waged war, clashing in sprays of sand and blood. Every time one of them fell— be they Whitebeard or Marine— Ace flinched. Every time someone screamed before death, he covered his ears. Because this was_ _ **his** _ _fault._

_No matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how he_ **_pleaded_ ,** _Garp would not listen to him._

_Garp would not believe him when he said the Whitebeards were not the reason he was broken._

_He could only watch mutely as his grandfather and Oyaji tore each other apart._

Ace's lips twisted into a smile. "I can't be seen or it's likely a war between the Marines and Whitebeard is going to start and it will not be end nicely for either side.  _Understand?_ "

Koala balked, gaping at him. "W-What?"

Ace peered back through the scope. "Might want to dodge."

Koala yanked on the controls just in time to evade a gigantic cannonball as it plunged into the sea. Ace sent a small plume of flame out of the sub, ready to use just in case. It would hurt like a sonofabitch if it came back to him after they submerged but he'd rather err on the side of caution. Another cannonball arced through the air and Koala forced the sub into an unnatural turn to evade it. Her fingers were white.

" _Why_ is he attacking us?!"

"We're an unidentified sub in Marine naval space." Ace pointed out with only the slightest bit of 'I-told-you-so' in his voice. He mentally applauded himself for his restraint. "Plus Garp the Fist always was a 'shoot first, don't ask questions' kind of man."

Koala's skin blanched slightly. "Garp the Fist? Dragon's  _father_?"

That was not usually the connection people made when it came to Garp but Ace supposed it made sense for a Revolutionary to think of that relationship first. He nodded absently. "I think we caught him out training. Also, I told you so."

Koala ground her teeth and pushed the controls. "Maybe we can outrun him—"

A cannonball filled the windshield, turning the sky black. Ace acted on instinct, flicking his hand and summoning a wall of flame. The cannonball hit the wall and exploded. Pieces of it fell into the ocean around them. It took a moment for Ace to realize what he had done and he groaned, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands.

"Damn it." he breathed. "We need to stop."

Koala shot him an alarmed look that showed him how crazy she thought he was. It was wonderful to see her learning. " _Why_  would we stop?"

"I screwed up." Ace explained pleasantly. "If I don't show myself he'll  _never_  stop hunting us down."

Koala looked on the verge of a mental breakdown. "Why?"

Ace grimaced and tried not to think of too many mistake-filled past loops. "Because he'll think we murdered his grandson."

Koala watched him wordlessly as he hurried to the exit of the sub. The corridor tilted under him as she was forced to evade another throw, and the slight scraping sound suggested it was a close miss. Stefan appeared more excited than alarmed by the collision and bounced in place, barking happily.

"Stay, Stefan." Ace ordered the dog.

Another shudder went through the sub and Stefan seemed to realize 'shaking-equals- _bad_ '. He laid down and whined pathetically, but Ace had no time to comfort him as he clambered up the ladder.

The sub rocked beneath him and he forsake the ladder in favor of flames, flying onto the top of the vessel. Cannonballs filled the sky, homing in on him like his fire was a beacon but he blasted them all apart, springing out over the waves. He twisted in the air and ignited, passing harmlessly over the water, and landed on the beach in a crouch.

Heavy footsteps headed towards him but Ace was unconcerned now that he was out in the open. He brushed the sand from his legs and stood up, crossing his arms casually. Garp stiffened, staring at his grandson with his mouth falling open.

Blue eyes went wide. " _Ace?_ "

Ace smiled, and waved. "...Hi Gramps."


	18. How To Say Everything Wrong

Grandfather and grandson stood facing each other on a sandy beach. One clad in a Marine uniform, the other in a bright orange hat with his blue shirt buttoned all the way up. Garp still stared at Ace like he had seen a ghost, and Ace took advantage of his grandfather's stunned silence in the only way he could: He planned a way of figurative attack, keeping a deceptively cheerful smile on his face, because  _oh boy_ , had he ever  _messed up_.

_If I pretend to be normal he'll see through it and blame Whitebeard. If I'm quiet he'll see through it and blame Whitebeard. If I don't pretend he'll swim across the ocean himself to go murder Whitebeard and everyone associated with him. Why did I have to run into him this early?_ _**Why?!** _

Garp rarely— also known as  _never_ with a capital N-E-V-E-R— took Ace's 'sudden personality change' well this early in the loop. Ace usually needed two or three or preferably five years to distance his 'new' unstable attitude from the time Whitebeard captured him or Garp  _assumed_  things.

And as everyone knew, assuming made a whole lot of misplaced vengeance, destruction, and world-ending war.

To Garp, 'captured grandson plus bad craziness'  _of course_  equaled 'torture, manipulation, abuse, and brainwashing'.

What else could it be? Time travel? Pfft.

Needless to say, this unexpected meeting was potentially very much bad. Forget potentially, it  _was_  very much bad.

Did Ace mention 'world-ending war' yet?

"Hi, Gramps." Ace said again in the most chipper voice he could muster. "What a wonderful coincidence. I didn't expect to find you here. Nice to see you. How have you been? How's the job? Done any Marine-ing lately?" He glanced behind him at the ocean to see Koala was guiding the submarine closer to the beach now that boulders were not raining from the sky. "Thanks for trying to avenge my not-death by killing me, by the way. Way to jump to conclusions. Just because I vanished and an unknown with the powers of the Mera Mera no Mi shows up doesn't mean they murdered me and got my fruit."

Garp stared at him with that same blank expression and Ace acknowledged his streak of messing up was reaching a new all-time record. A part of him acknowledged that there was no possible way he could hide his 'new' crazy— Ahem,  _concerning_  personality from his grandfather, but was chipper rambling about death  _really_  the best way to convince Garp that he was not a complete wreck of a person?

As Ace's mind tried to decide between berating himself, resigning himself to his fate, screaming incoherently, and desperately planning damage control, Garp finally moved. He strode towards Ace, looming over him, and Ace's back stiffened before his mind could remind his body that Garp was  _not_  Teach or Kaido.

He forced his eyes to remain open—  _Stay in the present_ — as Garp knelt in the sand and…

...hugged him?

Garp's large arms were warm and surprisingly gentle. Well, not  _surprisingly_. Not to Ace. Ace did not flinch, mostly because he expected the gesture. The first time he and Garp had met up in a similar situation to this one, he was ashamed to admit he freaked out and screamed upon being embraced, convinced Garp was trying to kill him. His reaction had  _not_  helped his case when he tried to convince his grandfather he was perfectly fine and happy and functional and not-broken, thank you very much.

Ace tried to relax. He really tried. A part of him even wanted to lay his head against his grandfather's shoulder so he could pretend everything was okay, if only for a second. But Ace could not manage even that flicker of delusion. Not now. Instead apathy beckoned to him, urging him to check out mentally while he had the chance, but he resisted its call because even though this loop was doomed anyway, he could not bear to see his families tear each other apart again.

He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't he couldn't he  _couldn't_ —

Something touched Ace's cheek and he snapped back into his body to meet sorrowful blue eyes. Garp gently cupped his face, fingers brushing a lock of black hair back. His large hand trembled— with sorrow or rage? Or both?

Ace knew it was both.

"What did they do to you?" Garp whispered.

_Crap. Don't avert your gaze. Don't avert your gaze._ _**Don't** _ _avert your gaze—_

Ace's eyes darted left. "It wasn't them."  _Damn it._

The sorrow in Garp's face gave way to a livid expression. Ace felt his own expression slip into a blank mask as his guard went up. He shifted onto his back foot and cursed himself again, predicting Garp was going to misunderstand his reaction like he always did. His prediction turned out to be spot on—  _surprise, surprise_ — as Garp's expression turned from livid to absolutely  _murderous_.

"You disappear in the middle of Whitebeard's territory. Word is that he captured you and your crew. And now you appear again, like… like..." Garp gestured vaguely at him before his hand fell to his side, clenched in a trembling fist.

Ace scrambled for a response, but all he could think of was the same old attempts to convince his grandfather he was mistaken. Attempts that failed  _miserably_.

He chose to remain silent for the moment and crossed his arms, wincing as a twinge of pain went through his back. Garp's gaze darkened further and he yanked Ace around, ignoring his grunt, and peered down the back of his shirt. Ace shoved him away and stepped back, slipping into a defensive position.

" _Don't_  touch me." he hissed before his mind decided to start working again. "Uh, I mean—"

The blank expression was back. The murderous glare remained. "Where did you get that wound?"

"Whitebeard's ship." Ace said, and instantly regretted it—  _Stupid_ _ **idiot**_ _, do you_ _ **want**_ _to get them killed?_  He saw the shift in Garp's face and instantly knew what he was thinking. "It's not from being whipped. I got it from a sword while protecting a crewmate. They were about to be stabbed from behind." His mind caught up to his mouth again—  _damn_  his brain was lagging behind— and he struggled not to flinch.  _Thatch_ _ **isn't**_ _my crewmate._ "Another pirate crew attacked the Moby Dick. The Whitebeards patched me up."

Garp's expression remained stony. "Did they also 'patch you up' after they tortured you?"

Ace's wince morphed into a smile. "They didn't torture me." He comprehended the implications of his words when combined with his expression and forced his lips into a less crazed look. He cleared his throat. "Look, I— I know I'm a bit— uh, injured. And acting weird. And flinching. A lot. But there is a perfectly logical explanation for this that does  _not_  involve torture and misplaced vengeance."

And he was rambling again. He should stop that.

_Mouth, kindly shut up. Brain, **please**  start working again._

Garp looked sad again, like he had stumbled upon a small, bloodied bird with broken wings. Ace used to hate seeing that expression directed at him. He still did, but right now he just wanted to scream in frustration. Deflecting was not working and telling the truth would only convince Garp even more that he was brainwashed and crazy.

Ace would not deny the latter but  _why_  did Garp have to be so stubborn about this? Ace understood now that Garp loved him— enough to fight Whitebeard as revenge for what the Yonko 'did' to him— and took Whitebeard's 'betrayal' personally since Garp saw him as a frenemy— so  _how dare he hurt his grandson_ — but  _why_  did the timing have to screw with Ace like this again? Why did Garp have to see him  _now_ , with an obvious group to blame sitting pretty across the sea?

The thought of going through the same old arguments  _again_ — only to fail _again_ and watch them die _again_ — made a weight settle on Ace's heart that was as heavy as the world. Exhaustion swept through Ace and his shoulders slumped.

"I got messed up  _before_  the Whitebeards cap— took me in, okay? They had nothing to do with it."

Bitter resignation seeped into his tone, but he was too tired to care. It did not matter what he said or did. Garp would go on a vengeance quest and the world would go to hell as the rest of the Marines were dragged into it, either in support of Garp or in retaliation if he got himself killed.

Garp was silent a beat too long. "Define 'messed up.'" His tone was as warm as a glacier.

Ace fought down a wince. "Well, uh—"

He saw the strike coming and dodged. Garp's fist impacted the ground and the sand below him exploded into a cloud. Ace shielded his eyes as best he could but ended up spitting out a mouthful of sand.

"You're trying to knock me out?  _Seriously_?"

"Yes. Then I'm taking you home." Garp stated and— Oh dear. He was  _not_  smiling. Not at  _all_.

The desire to scream was so strong Ace was surprised his vocal chords were not burning to ashes in his throat. He had half a mind to turn on his heel, walk to the submarine— or into the ocean— and book it out of there but if he did that Garp would either pursue him or go and start a war.

_Damn. It._

_What am I supposed to_ _**do** _ _?_

Ace backed up a few steps, further out of his grandfather's reach. Not that the increased distance would help much once dear old Gramps got moving. Garp followed the movement with his eyes but made no move to grab or knock out his grandson again.

"I can't go back to Dawn Island. I'm wanted by the World Government." Ace said, mainly to buy himself some more precious, fickle time. He did not want to fight Garp. He really didn't. But if Garp was serious about dragging him home kicking and screaming...

Garp waved a hand, but the lackadaisical movement was ruined by his sharp gaze. "I can pull a few strings to get your bounty annulled. Maybe if you became a Marine—"

"I'd rather die." Ace interjected flatly.

There it was. Another beat-too-long pause. Had Garp realized his threat was serious? Yep, he definitely had. Ditching the loop was looking more and more tempting by the second. But then Ace would be back on the Moby Dick and would have to do the whole 'ungrateful brat' song and dance again. The bone-weary exhaustion clung tighter to Ace at the thought, turning his limbs to stone.

"Just let me  _go_." Ace begged tiredly. "Let me go, and forget you ever saw me."

"Why would I do that?" Garp demanded.

"I dunno. How about you calm down, don't try to knock me out, and let me  _explain_." Ace pleaded.

Garp did not appear to hear him. His dark eyes continued to pierce Ace, seeing through his defenses and leaving him feeling horribly exposed. There was a  _reason_  he needed time to hide from his grandfather. Garp was not the greatest guardian, but he had enough guardian-like instincts to scream 'Everything is wrong! Hurt child!' when he saw Ace like this.

In front of most people, Ace could hide his mental scars.

In front of his grandfather, Ace may as well be walking around with gaping wounds.

If something akin to paternal care came with those other instincts and got through Garp's thick skull, perhaps he would stay long enough to listen to Ace. But he never stayed— never had, never would— and instead he sought to end the source of his grandson's pain. In loops where Akainu or Teach were their lovely cruel selves, Ace could appreciate the gesture. But not here. Not now. Not against his family—

_Not my family. Not this time._

Ace felt his expression twitch and slammed a mask back onto his face.

His series of sequential bad decisions had yet to end, it seemed.

If Garp's aura grew any darker Ace would swear he had eaten the Yami Yami no Mi. "He tried to force you to join him, didn't he? That conniving, lying, hypocritical, two-faced son of a—"

The fragile grip Ace had on what he could hesitantly call 'control' snapped.

" _It_ _ **wasn't**_ _the Whitebeards_!" he screamed. "They  _didn't_  do this to me, you  _crazy old man!_ "

Logic and plans were lost at sea as he lunged for Garp and grabbed his leg. Garp flinched and made to shake him off but Ace planted his feet, refusing to let go.

"You—" he grunted as he was shaken. "—are staying here— until I convince you— not to be an  _idiot!_ "

Fire flared and Ace melted the sand beneath them into molten glass. Garp sank into it up past his knees. He did not appear very bothered by the heat. Of course he did not. He could go up against Akainu and emerge without a burn.

Garp instantly made to climb out of the molten pit but Ace jumped onto his back, clinging to his neck much like Luffy did. He was not Luffy—  _too morose, too crazy, too damaged, too lost_ — and his eye was probably twitching madly at the moment, but an eye-twitch was preferable to screaming or digging his nails into his skin _until his arms bled—_

Garp yanked Ace off his shoulder, holding him up by his right arm. Fire lanced through Ace's back as his shoulder was wrenched around in its socket and he gritted his teeth. His gaze zeroed in on the spot on his grandfather's wrist that would snap easily if he kicked it—

_No. It's not necessary. Breathe. Need a plan. Need a plan. Need a plan—_

Garp took a step and Ace twisted, pinching his grandfather's hand. Garp grunted and his fingers went lax, allowing Ace to wriggle free of his bruising grip. He landed in a crouch and backed up a few steps, flexing his fingers.

Ace risked a look down and saw redness and slight swelling around his limb. He had been joking about the bruising, but it looked like he'd have some nice purple contusions to worry about in the near-future. It would not be the worst injury he got while trying to convince Garp he was not the Whitebeards' brainwashed slave. The frustration bubbled up, boiling his blood, and he glowered at Garp.

"You're not  _listening_ to me." Ace growled. "You  _never listen!_ "

Garp turned his head and studied his grandson. The anger lingered, but the first hints of concern had returned. "Ace—"

"I  _know_  you!" Ace snapped. "You'll go running to attack Whitebeard and start a war. I  _won't_  allow it. They're  _innocent_."

Garp still frowned. "If Whitebeard did not hurt you and do  _this_ —" He gestured at Ace like everything about him was wrong. Ace knew that already. He knew he was wrong. He knew he knew he  _knew—_  "—then who or what did?"

Ace hesitated and his mind went blank, leaving him scrambling for an answer. "…Everything?"

"'Everything'." Garp echoed flatly. "'Everything' hurt you?"

"Yeah." Ace whispered.

He wondered what his answer sounded like: a feeble excuse or a glimpse into how bone-tired he was because why did he care what Garp did why he even bother trying anymore why why  _why—?_

Ace's eyes prickled so he smiled bright and wide.

Garp recoiled, eyes locked on Ace's face, and a bit more of the anger drained, the vacated space filled in by horror. That was new. Well, not  _new_ , but new for right now. Usually Garp needed some more time to see and be affected by how utterly screwed up Ace was.

Ace  _had_  to use this. He didn't know what else to do. If he could not pretend to be the old Ace, he might as well try the opposite tactic.

Ace let his defenses fall and felt his expression crumple. He  _might_  have underestimated how much he was holding back because the strength of it took his breath away. Literally. It was becoming a bit difficult to breathe. He felt Garp's arms around him and sucked in a breath, grappling to regain some semblance of control because he was fine it was fine Garp was not hugging him because Luffy was dead it was  _fine—_

Ace's rapid gasps lulled and the roaring in his head eased a little, allowing him to hear. He realized Garp was talking to him, saying the same thing over and over and over again in the hopes that his grandson would hear him.

"It's alright. You're alright. You're safe."

"No I'm not." Ace whispered, voice too choked to be natural. "It  _won't end_."

It was the most truthful he had been to his grandfather in decades. But Garp did not understand. He never would. And even if he did, it did not matter. This loop would end. A new one would begin. And Ace would be alone with his burdens.

A long time ago, Ace would rather deny it for all his worth than show he was crying. Now he could not seem to stop as gut-wrenching sobs shook his entire frame. Garp did not berate him for his weakness, and Ace was  _almost_  glad, because the alternative to crying was screaming himself hoarse out of the hope it would erase the memories from his mind and take some of the weight off his heart.

Ace should not do this. He should hide his weakness, not expose it. But what else could he  _do_? Try the same old tactics that never worked? Let horrible events play out again? Give up completely?  _No_.

The worst part of it all— worse than Garp's assumptions, and Ace's weakness, and the utter and humiliating loss of control— was that Ace could not tell how real his tears were.

_I'm a manipulative asshole_ , Ace thought bitterly as his cheek pressed against his grandfather's white uniform and his humiliating sobs became low sniffles.

A bark echoed across the beach and Stefan came running out of the sub. Koala made a lunge for the dog but missed, falling face-first in the sand. Oh dear. How much had Koala heard and seen? Ace shuffled that problem away to be dealt with later as Stefan trotted up to him and nudged his leg. Limbs feeling like noodles, Ace sat heavily in the sand and let the dog lean against him, licking the side of his face in concern.

"I'm fine, buddy." Ace rasped.

Stefan huffed in disagreement and nuzzled the side of his head. He licked Ace's tear-stained cheek. Ace rubbed at it hastily.

"I'm not crying." Ace said, out of habit rather than necessity.

Dogs could not really look disapproving, but Stefan somehow managed it. He must have learned how to make such an expression by watching Marco. Ace repressed a flinch at the thought of his not-brother and hid his face in Stefan's fur. He lifted his head as sand shifted and Garp knelt next to his grandson and the canine. His blue gaze zeroed in on Stefan's mustache and his eyebrows crept upward.

"You stole Whitebeard's dog?"

Ace adamantly shook his head. "No. He came with me of his own accord. He likes me better."

Garp chuckled lowly. It was a far cry from his usual loud, boisterous laughter. "I bet he does." he said, and  _oh_. There was  _still_  a hint of anger there. Wonderful.

Ace was too tired to try to snuff it out. He glanced at the ocean. It was a mere ten yards away. Could he make it, or should he use his knife?

"They didn't do this to me." he whispered hollowly.

Garp's smile faded. "Let's talk."

Ace's blood froze in his veins. "What?"

No hint of a smile played at Garp's lips, and there was no cheer in his eyes. "You say Whitebeard's men did not harm you. You want me to listen. I will. So let's talk."

Ace's mouth moved wordlessly as his mind tried and failed to wrap around this turn of events. He did not understand. After all those failures to convince Garp, why did he want to listen  _now_? What changed? What had Ace done differently to reach this outcome? Was it his tears? His desperation? Stefan? Koala? The lack of a Whitebeard tattoo on his back? There were too many variables.

He  _couldn't handle it—_

Grey.

When Ace returned to his body he was laying on his back with Garp's Marine coat laid over him and Stefan by his head. Ace took a couple deep breaths, tried to force his issues back into their cage, and opened his eyes to sunlight. He had not been out that long then.

He noticed Koala sitting by Garp at his left side, the Marine leaning over to listen to what the Revolutionary had to say. Stefan raised his head with a whine, alerting the two to his return to awareness. Ace would like to claim he had fallen unconscious but he was not able to pretend he'd blacked out and not sunk into his own head, no matter how much he wanted to.

Scratch that, unconsciousness or disassociation were preferable to the piercing blue-eyed stares he received from his audience.

Garp spoke first. At least, he tried to. His voice seemed to lodge in his throat and he cleared it almost self-consciously. Garp, self-conscious? Why would he  _ever_  act that way? Could it be because he thought his grandson might shatter if he said the wrong thing?

_Oh, look. The desire to scream my frustration is back. Wonderful._

Ace struggled to keep said desire-to-scream off his face but he was not sure he succeeded if Garp's thinned lips were any indication.

"What happened to you?" Garp finally asked. Ace was certain that was not what he intended to say.

"I got messed up." Ace repeated weakly. He avoided his grandfather's gaze and looked at Koala, delaying the inevitable. "So I see you two have made your introductions."

"Oh yes. This young lady told me you are helping her." Garp said.

Ace had to wonder just how much Koala told him about their mission and Revolutionary Sabo. She did not look uncomfortable like she had been at the bad end of an interrogation. Nor did she look particularly pleased.

"You're Garp's grandson." she stated.

"Yes."

He could see the gears slowly turning in her head. Her eyes widened as she glanced between the two. "So you're Dragon's—?"

"No." Ace interrupted. "I'm Garp's  _adopted_  grandson."

Garp's hand landed on his head. "He's my  _grandson_." Garp insisted and ruffled his hair. It didn't knock Ace over so he knew Garp was being  _gentle_.

_Great. Wonderful. Peachy. Fabu_ _l_ _—_ _Damn it_ _,_ ** _don't_ **_**pity me**  you old coot._

Ace wisely kept his mouth shut and—  _resisted the desire to kick Garp in the shin_ — did not voice his complaints.

Koala mulled that over. She glanced cautiously at Garp and her shoulders slumped slightly. "Why am I not surprised?"

Ace opened his mouth.

Koala jabbed him in the shoulder. "Don't answer that. Do you have any other relatives I should worry about?"

Garp coughed.

"Definitely." Ace said blandly. He fiddled with his bracelet and yanked it absently.

Koala's expression sobered. "Are you okay?" she winced. "Dumb question."

"But a valid one." Ace said quietly. "And no. I'm not."

Koala shifted on her feet and twirled a lock of hair nervously between her fingers. "Can I help?"

Ace shook his head. "Even if I talk to you, it won't last."

"But talking might give you a bit of peace." Koala argued.

"It won't last." Ace repeated.

"But we  _are_  going to talk." Garp stated.

Oops. Ace had almost forgotten he was there. He was  _really_  out of it today. In his defense, his mind begging him to let coherent thoughts go so it could shatter into smithereens was a bit distracting. He forced his voice to remain steady.

"When I offered that, I didn't really  _mean_  it so..."

"I'm going to need more than 'They didn't do this' to convince me I should not hunt Whitebeard and his crew down and tear them apart, brat." Garp said in a low growl.

Ace shifted uncomfortably and lowered his head. He knew Garp would not believe him about coming from the future. That was a constant this early. Always was, as if he had been cursed to be disbelieved along with his curse of repeated lives. But the future  _was_  the reason for his…  _undesirable_  changes.

His best chance was to mix and stretch the truth. He would have to rephrase things to make it seem like they happened in this life but hey, he was an adept liar. It would probably blow up in his face eventually, but it was better than Garp going on a rampage  _now_. This loop would not last long enough for it to matter.

Ace shut his eyes and thought back to—

" _Promise… me..."_

_**Not** _ _that. Don't think about that._

He thought back to one of his more recent captures at the hands of Blackbeard instead.

" _I'm sorry."_

_The words made it past Ace's lips before he could try to stop them, loud and unable to be ignored in the silence of the cell. The fire-user could just see Thatch look towards him in the darkness, his usual pompadour-sporting figure made strange by the limpness of his hair. It was not like Blackbeard would give the Whitebeard Pirates hair products, however._

_Or food._

_Or water._

_Or anything really._

_Thatch gave a low,_ _crackly_ _chuckle and shook his head. "Why are you apologizing?"_

" _It's my fault we're stuck here." Ace said truthfully._

_It had been about a week since Ace had made possibly the biggest mistake this loop. After Thatch had gotten the Yami Yami no Mi, the fire-user had gotten the bright idea to convince the Fourth Division Commander to eat the fruit. If he did, it had to be a win-win situation, right? Thatch would be less vulnerable, and Teach would not be able to steal the Devil Fruit and kill the Commander for it. If he did, the bastard risked losing the Yami Yami and having to search for it again._

_Right?_

_Right?!_

_**Wrong**_ _._

_It had seemed like a good plan, except Teach was not so easily thwarted. The bastard had waited a few nights, allowing Ace to think he might actually have given up, then attacked and kidnapped them both. The fire-user had no idea what he had done to make himself a target alongside Thatch because he was certain Teach had not imprisoned him simply for petty revenge. Blackbeard was too cunning for that._

_Though Teach_   _ **had** __seemed pretty livid that Thatch had eaten the Yami Yami..._

_And so here Thatch and Ace sat, imprisoned on Teach's ship in seastone shackles without a clue why Teach was holding them or a plan of how to escape. Ace_ _had_ _hoped that the Whitebeard Pirates would have come for them by now, but that faith was slowly weakening as the days passed and the pain in his gut and shoulders grew stronger._

" _That's ridiculous and you know it," Thatch said in reply to his claim._

_The chef was blissfully unaware of Ace's hand in their current fate, just like everyone would be unless the Logia told them. No one knew about his time traveling this loop and he had not bothered to give any hints as well._

_At most, some people suspected he had some type of hyper awareness of the future, much like one of Big Mom's Sweet Commanders was rumored to, and Ace did nothing to alleviate the rumors. Explaining his time traveling over and over was tiresome and he tended not to bother until after Teach was taken care of regardless._ _B_ _ecause if one Whitebeard Pirate knew, the bastard would soon find out as well no matter what Ace did._

_So Ace merely shook his head, knowing Thatch was wrong but unable to divulge as to why. A low creaking sound reached their ears and the bastard himself strode into the brig, placing a torch on the wall. Ace glowered at Teach, not bothering to hide the utter loathing in his expression, and Blackbeard chuckled._

" _What's with that face, Ace? Aren't you happy to see me?"_

" _Go drown in the sea." The fire-user spat._

_Teach grinned, revealing gap-filled, yellowed teeth. "I don't think I will." His eyes flicked to Thatch before returning to the twenty year-old. "_ **Y** _**ou** _ _on the other hand…"_

" _Don't touch him." Thatch snarled, immediately up in arms. He pulled at his bonds but his effort was as useless as the first dozen times he tried to break free._

_Teach gave his signature laugh, a sound that made Ace's blood boil. "Zehahaha! See,_   _ **that's**_ _the reason Ace is here, Thatch. He's your youngest brother and you care about him so much, don't you?"_

_Thatch stilled, adopting the blank-eyed, horrified expression of someone who realized they had made a terrible mistake._

" _Whatever he wants, don't do it." Ace said before Thatch could speak._

_Teach laughed his grating laugh, making the hairs on Ace's nape stand on end. "Silly Ace. I don't want anything. Except..." His black eyes flicked to Thatch grew cold. "...for you to_ _ **suffer** __for taking what is meant to be_   _ **mine**_ _."_

_Ace's heartbeat quickened._ _His fear was n_ _ot for himself._ _It was n_ _ever for himself. "If you kill Thatch you'll lose your precious Yami Yami." he growled._

_Blackbeard smiled. It was not pleasant. "Perhaps. But like I said, I just want Thatch to suffer."_

" _Don't." Thatch breathed, and the chef— Ace's kind, selfless,_ _ **soft**_ _brother— thrashed in his bonds,_ _ignorant to how the seastone cut into his wrists, which began to bleed_ _. "_ _ **DON'T!**_ _"_

_Blackbeard pulled out a knife. Ace shut his eyes, focusing on the darkness instead of his body and Thatch's screams. Thatch would be fine. Blackbeard would not harm him as long as there was a risk of losing the Yami Yami no Mi. Ace was the one in trouble. But that was okay. He could endure. He had to endure._

_He would not scream._

_He would not scream._

_He would not scream._

_He would not—_

_Ace screamed._

"I was captured, okay?" Ace said tersely. "Before Whitebeard. Don't know who did it."  _I know who did it but you_ _ **don't**_ _. Teach doesn't have a bounty._ "Their faces were covered—" — _with my blood._ He rubbed his arms but— upon realizing his mistake— crossed them firmly, fingernails digging into his forearms. "...It doesn't matter."

It did  _not_  matter. It was a previous loop. Ace was not in Blackbeard's hands. Thatch would not eat the Yami Yami no Mi unless Ace convinced him to. Those events could easily be avoided, especially since Ace would take measures to kill Teach before that point.

Ace noticed Koala was pale and wondered why.

Garp's fingers were white as he clenched them in his lap. "Did they torture you?"

Ace kept his gaze on Stefan's clean white fur. "Yes."

_Laughter. So much laughter. It echoed around him and pierced his aching head like knives. He tried to move, tried to speak, tried to breathe, but all he could do was shudder._

_His left eye was sealed shut with congealed blood, while his right saw nothing but grey. Was Thatch even there anymore? Was Ace alone? Had he been abandoned with the laughter and knives and pain?_

" _Wiiiihahahahaha! Looks like Fire Fist needs to cool off." Someone— **Who…?** — said. "He's going to burn the ship at this rate!"_

_He was released from the wall,_ but s _omething was wrapped around his wrists, binding his hands together before he could try anything. The Blackbeard Pirates yanked him onto the deck, whooping and yelling, and tied his hands to something, leaving them above his head. Thatch was dragged up as well, but before Ace could do anything, Burgess shoved him over the railing._

_He fell through the air and plunged into the water like a stone, sinking further and further as the water grew dark. Ace held his breath, chest already straining, but considered breathing in to move on to the next loop. He dismissed the idea._

_Thatch was still alive. He had the Yami Yami no Mi. Whitebeard may be hesitant to go after Teach if he escaped, but he would come if two of his sons were being held captive. The Whitebeards— his family—_ _**would** _ _come. Ace just had to hold out—_

_Black spots danced across Ace's vision and his body lurched. Before he could fall unconscious, the Blackbeard Pirates dragged him back above the surface, allowing him to take in a gasp of air._

" _Well, would you look at that? Fire_ _ **can**_ _float!"_

" _Do you think he'll attract any Sea Kings?"_

" _Wiiiihahahahaha! He's like a tea bag!"_

_Their laughter echoed around him. Barely audible below it was Thatch's shouted threats and screams. Then they let him_ _slip_ _back under._

"They drowned me." Ace murmured. He realized that wording implied he had died— well, he  _had_  in the end but that was not the point— and amended his statement. "They left me in the water until I  _almost_  drowned, I mean. Then they'd yank me out before shoving me back in again." Laughter echoed around him and his skin crawled. "They laughed too…  _Wiiiihahahaha_..." He flatly copied Jesus Burgess's cackle, the sound coming out toneless and hollow.

Koala was still pale.

Now Garp was as well.

But why? It wasn't that painful, all things considering. It didn't matter.

Ace avoided looking at them and played with Stefan's fur. "It wasn't that bad."

"You're a Devil Fruit user." Koala mentioned, uncharacteristically meek.

"I'm aware." Ace said flatly.

"You would have been paralyzed."

"Indeed I was." Ace said distantly.

Koala looked disturbed. "I can't imagine..."

"It  _wasn't_  that bad." Ace repeated. A thought struck him too late and he sighed. "Sorry. You didn't have to hear that. I should have asked if you wanted to leave."

"It's fine." Koala reassured him. She balked. "I mean, it's not  _fine_  but— but it's, uh— you know?" She seemed to sort out her thoughts for she cleared her throat and straightened. "I can handle it."

Ace knew she could. It hit him then that he had revealed something about himself in front of her, a person he would be spending a lot of time with in the future and not someone he could conveniently avoid for the rest of the loop.

_Damn it all…_

"Don't pity me. It was in the past." the words left Ace's mouth without his permission and he pursed his lips, wishing he could take them back.

If Koala noticed his expression, she kept it to herself. "I'll try."

"I'd hoped I was wrong..."

It took Ace a second to realize the quiet voice he heard was Garp's. Garp never spoke that softly, not even on stealth missions or while near a sleeping baby. He announced his presence with the volume of a fog horn and tended to talk a few decibels below that.

Ace braced himself and looked at his grandfather, acknowledging the sorrow— and  _pity_ — that was painted on Garp's face like a tapestry. Ace would see it if it was dark and he was half-blinded. Garp always looked like that whenever he and Ace did not meet during the 'avoid at all costs' years and he managed to finagle some horrific truths out of his grandson. That usually happened after Luffy was—

_Luffy's_ _**fine** _ _. Breathe._

But this time was a little different. There was not just sorrow and pity there but… anguish. Genuine  _anguish_ , like Garp was being torn apart from the inside. But  _why_ …?

Gentle fingers brushed his hair and Ace swore he could  _almost_  remember his grandfather doing this to comfort him when he was small. Small details from his childhood was mostly lost to him so the memory was probably a fabrication, but it was nice. And enlightening.

_I'm seventeen._

Ace's body was young. He was a teenager, with awkward limbs and hints of baby fat clinging to his face. He was not an adult who had been toughened by the sea. Not yet. Not to Garp. To Garp, Ace was his seventeen year-old grandson who had been out in the big bad ocean for less than a year.

And Ace had just admitted he'd been tortured.

" _It wasn't that bad."_

Ace bit back the claim, unwilling to voice it and risk undoing what he had done.  _That_  was why Garp always thought he had been tortured. Because he  _had_  been. But not by the Whitebeards. Not recently.

_Smile or scream_. Ace held back a twisted smile.  _I really was an idiot those first few loops, thinking I could blab about_ _the_ _personal information I knew without pirates believing I was a spy..._

Arms wrapped around him, but this time they did not merely hold him in place. Ace tensed as he was lifted off the ground by his grandfather. The fire-user stayed rigid, wary of any sneak attacks, but Garp did not try to knock him unconscious. Instead he only hugged his grandson tightly. Ace's feet swung a few feet off in the air. He did not like it. But he could always use fire if he needed a purchase to jump off of in order to get away—

"I don't want to let you go." Garp admitted in a whisper.

" _I should have been able to protect you."_  Ace knew his grandfather wanted to say.

Despite that implication, Ace's muscles locked so tightly he was surprised nothing snapped. "I'm  _not_  going back to Dawn Island."

"I won't make you." Garp promised. "But you do not have to stay out at sea. You  _can_  come home."

Ace shook his head. "I can't go home. I..."  _...don't have a home._ "I can't."

Dawn Island was off-limits no matter how much Ace wanted to see Luffy and no matter how many strings Garp pulled. Ace wouldn't risk ruining Luffy's life. As for Ace's other home…

Well, the Moby Dick  _wasn't_  his home anymore, now was it?

There it was again. The lance of pain in his chest. _I'm not a Whitebeard—_ _ **Stop it.**_ _It's what you wanted. You made sure it could never be your home. Get over yourself._

Ace nearly bit through his lip. He forced his teeth apart just in time and exhaled, closing his eyes as he counted down from twenty.

It took a while for Garp to say anything. His arms tightened, just a little. Nowhere close to his bear hugs, but no longer so gently that Ace may as well be glass in his arms. Despite the circumstances and the recipient, it was almost nice to talk to someone. But too much could not be said for it to be much use.

Still, Ace's heart felt just an ounce lighter, because he'd actually  _done it_. He'd stopped Garp's rage. He had successfully convinced Garp that Whitebeard was not responsible for breaking him.

He knew better than to think more good things were coming.

Still, he could pretend things were okay, right? Just for a second...

Garp spoke before he had the chance. "Are you going to be a pirate anymore? Your crew—"

"They have a better life now. And I don't know." Ace interrupted.

It took him far too long to realize Garp was talking about the former Spade Pirates and not the Whitebeards— though they were all Whitebeards now. Every Spade except him—

_Stop it._

It also took him too long to remember that he was talking to Garp  _'join the Marines and don't become a pirate or else'_ the Fist. But Garp looked far from triumphant after hearing his grandson was considering not being a pirate anymore. In fact, he still looked upset. Huh. Usually it took a particularly bad injury or Luffy's death to bring out this side of Garp. It was strange to see that look so soon.

"The ones who did this." Garp murmured. "Were they pirates?"

Ace nodded before his mind could catch up to his body. Stupid brain still wasn't doing its job. He was honestly too drained to feel much about his latest mistake.

The anger was back in Garp's expression, but Ace could take comfort in knowing it was not directed at the Whitebeard Pirates.

"I'm going to find them." Garp growled.

Ace laid his head against his grandfather's shoulder and smiled a blank smile that did not reach his eyes. "No, you won't."


	19. Contemplation

Garp the Fist— Vice Admiral and Hero of the Marines— sat on the soft sands of the beach and watched the waves rush in towards the shore until they exploded into foam. He should have returned to the base on this island hours ago, but no one would care if he was a little late. In fact, the other Marines had been trained to  _expect_  him to be late due to whatever thing had caught his interest on whatever island he had been stationed on. He could vanish for days and no one would bat an eye. Well, they may grumble a bit under their breaths— and out of Garp's hearing— but that was about it. And he would not even get in trouble for vanishing, too.

That was the benefit of being one of the most respected men in the Marines. Few could scold him, and even fewer could tell him what to do. Really, only Sengoku and perhaps Kong could and they both knew that Garp may or may not follow their orders. Especially if those orders consisted of something as trivial as "Get your butt back to base because I say so". It was a different freedom than the one some pirates sought, but it was good enough for Garp.

He had once hoped that type of freedom would be enough for Ace too, but now that dream was impossible. Just hours ago, Garp would have been infuriated by the mere notion that his grandson would never become a Marine, clinging to the stubborn and obstinate hope that burned inside him for almost two decades, but now he only felt cold and maybe a little hollow.

Garp was not one to brood or think darkly, yet here he was, sitting on the beach and doing exactly that. At least he had his grandson and his grandson's orange-haired friend for company, even if his oldest brat was oblivious at the moment.

One minute, Ace was awake. The next, he had the gall to fall asleep using his grandfather's leg as a pillow. In a move that would never happen were he conscious, Ace snuggled against Garp, fingers clinging to his pants as his scraggly black hair fell into his face. The brat needed a haircut. And a bath. He did not stink somehow, but there was a layer of dirt on him that most people would want off their skin. But then again, Ace was never one to care much about his appearance. Garp may be tempted to whack him awake with a lecture about letting his guard down but his grandson looked too darn cute sleeping like that.

_Cheeky brat._

Ace may be relaxed— and his dog was as well, his tail wagging happily as he watched birds fly far above— but their companion was not. The orange-haired girl— Koala— watched Garp carefully, much less at ease than Ace. At least  _she_  understood Garp was more than a glorified pillow and could be a threat to their plans if he wanted to be. The Marine knew if he tried to scoop Ace up and take him away, she would stop him. Or try to, at least.

No, that was not right.

She  _would_  stop him, because a part of him would let her.

He could rant about becoming Marines and going back to Dawn and stupid grandsons all he wanted, but Garp could not take Ace home and strip his freedom away.

Despite Garp's claims, the World Government would not simply forget Fire Fist Portgas D. Ace had been a pirate. Sengoku might be convinced not to throw the infamous rookie Fire Fist in Impel Down, but if Garp were honest with himself, the best Ace could hope for was an eternal sentence on Dawn Island that was little more than glorified house arrest. Such a sentence would kill his grandson, and deep down Garp knew that was not a figurative statement. Nor would his death come from outside factors, but from himself.

When Ace said he would rather die than join the Marines— would rather die than lose his freedom— he  _meant_  it. And not even in the defiant "You can't control me, old man!" way Garp came to expect from his bratty, stubborn, adorable grandson. Ace said it as if killing himself to escape such a fate was the best option. As if it were the simple solution. Not that it was the  _only_  solution, but the most  _practical_ one. It was that pragmatic disinterest in his own survival which made Garp comprehend something he had been trying to deny ever since Ace went still and blank-eyed as his grandfather hugged him.

Ace was not only tortured.

He was  _broken_.

Garp could see it in his silence, in his tension at physical contact, in the way he lost control and  _screamed_  at Garp that he never listened with the desperation of someone used to begging. Worse, it was the type of begging meant for someone else, and not Ace himself.

Garp shifted so he could settle more comfortably on the beach, careful not to move too much and wake Ace. Ace still reacted, tensing slightly, and Garp held his breath until he was certain his grandson would not wake. He watched Ace snuggle closer to his leg, moving so his back was angled slightly towards Garp's leg. A pang of sorrow pierced Garp's chest as he recognized the defensiveness in the move as— even while asleep—Ace tried to guard his back.

_What did they do to you?_

Garp's grandson was never the happiest child. When he was a baby he was a crawling, trouble-making, giggling ball of joy, but he did not remain that way. Not after Garp told him about his father. But age and Luffy's presence reignited a spark in Ace, peeling away the hateful armor he used to protect himself and revealing a kinder, happier side that always lingered underneath the anger.

Now the armor was back, and in a much,  _much_  worse form. It was not hate— for the world, for his father, for himself— that formed Ace's protective shield this time. It was not even anger. Instead it was  _madness_ and _pain_ ; the madness and pain of a soul so shattered he smiled when he should cry and scream. That was the smile of someone who grinned to tell the world that no matter what else it did to them, there was nothing left to break anymore.

Garp had seen men like that before. Grown men, old men, men who had seen and experienced such horrors their minds could not take them. He had also seen that smile on slaves too, and Garp found himself scanning his grandson's exposed skin, gaze lingering on his shirt. He wanted to check for a brand, just to be  _sure_ , but—  _if there was a brand, what could he do? He was powerless_ — that would definitely wake his grandson.

Garp had promised himself that if his grandsons became pirates, he would treat them like any other criminals. That he would not help them if they got into trouble. That whatever they went through was on their heads, and he would show them no sympathy.

And yet here Garp sat, doing exactly that, because he could not bear to see his grandson so hurt.

It had almost been a relief to see Ace cry. His grandson was hurting, so he was not an empty shell that had been left to rot or filled with the will of another. His will lived on and that spark remained inside him. It was very deep and savagely guarded— with fire and bared teeth and thorns— but it burned on. If it did not, he would not have fought Garp about going home, or about those Whitebeards.

Garp's jaw clenched and his lips twisted into a snarl. Despite Ace's claims about their innocence, Garp was going to have some  _nice_   _words_  for those Whitebeard Pirates the next time he ran into any of them. He might throw in a few glares and maybe a warning punch or two, just to get his point across.

Regardless of whether they had hurt Ace— because as much as Ace vouched for them, Garp doubted those pirates had left him completely unscathed— they had kept him aboard their ship when he did not want to be there. They kept him prisoner; contained in an area he could not leave except through escape.

After what those other pirates did when they captured him, the Whitebeards capture of him must have been a nightmare come to life when Ace first woke on their ship. Then once they showed their 'kindness', they must have seemed like absolute saints in comparison to those others. At least, they were kind enough that Ace defended them with a ferocity Garp had only seen when it came to his family.

_But they were not 'kind' enough that Ace joined their ranks._

Garp took comfort in that thought, because if Ace had approached him with Whitebeard's mark on his skin, Garp would go to that ship, sink it himself, and tear through every one of Whitebeard's allies along the way. It would not matter that the Whitebeards had not physically harmed his grandson. Ace had likely been in a vulnerable state of mind, and the thought of Whitebeard— intentionally or unintentionally— taking advantage of that state to 'convince' Ace to join his crew made Garp's blood boil.

But Ace had  _not_  joined their ranks. Instead he had fought, rejected, escaped, and stolen Whitebeard's dog on the way out to boot. Ace said Stefan chose to follow him but Garp was not too sure. He wished he had been there to see Whitebeard's face when he realized the canine was gone. And if Stefan  _had_  followed Ace willingly, it just proved he had good taste in choosing his human. Garp's grandson was much better company than that Yonko's crew.

Or Ace's own crew, it seemed. As light glinted off the shimmering waves, Garp's glower darkened, his rage unaffected by the beautiful view. His grandson was taking the Spade Pirates' change of allegiance rather well. At least, he  _appeared_  to be. Was it because he had gotten over it already? Had he expected they would leave him for a long time before they did? Or did he genuinely believe they were better off as part of Whitebeard's crew, like he had claimed?

Garp's thoughts turned back to what Ace had shared and grew darker still. It was highly likely Ace was captured while he had a crew, and the way he spoke suggested they had not rescued him. Had he been forced to rescue himself? Or was Garp wrong and the Spades did rescue their captain?

Did Ace let the Spades go because he thought they would be safer with Whitebeard and not a captain who got himself captured, or did the Spades abandon him because they did not believe in his strength anymore? Ace did say he protected a crewmate on Whitebeard's ship, but right after that he had flinched as if remembering something painful. Had he recalled his crewmates left him for another, more powerful captain?

Garp gritted his teeth.  _Bloody pirates. All that talk about 'nakama' and yet they abandon their captain because a stronger one showed up._

Garp tried to tell himself it was just a theory and he had many unanswered questions but it made  _sense_. Ace would not give up his crew so easily. Nor would he give up being a pirate so easily.  _Unless_  his crew betrayed him first chance they got, proving he could trust no one and trying to gather a crew was just setting himself up for more betrayals and pain. Ace had enough trust issues to fill the seas, and if his crew left him, they would be split wide open.

What would Ace say if Garp asked all the questions burning his mind?

Probably nothing. His grandson was always a secretive brat—  _Because he cannot afford to show weakness to the world._

Or he would smile  _that_  smile again.

Garp was not a softhearted man, but seeing that terrible, agonized grin on his grandson's face again may just tear his heart to shreds. He reached out and petted Ace's soft black hair, reminding himself that at the moment, Ace was safe and out of the clutches of those that tortured him.

Ace wrinkled his nose—  _Cheeky, adorable grandson_ —but did not wake. Garp sighed and diverted his attention back to the girl beside him, who seemed content to watch the sea. The slight wrinkle in her brow was her only expression, though Garp had a feeling their thoughts followed similar paths.

"Koala." She looked at him. "Please watch over my grandson."

She studied him for a moment before turning back towards the ocean, setting her chin on her bent knees. "I was planning to anyway."

She said it simply, as if it were strange that Garp had made the request. That put Garp's aching heart at ease. Ace may try to hide it, but he was a good kid who simply wanted to  _belong_. There were many who would try to take advantage of that desire for friendship and family to try to manipulate him to their side, only to toss him away like trash when they were done with him.

Koala may be a Revolutionary, but she seemed to have no intent on prodding Ace into joining Dragon's ranks. There seemed to be no ulterior motives in her alliance with him, only those from their mission, which may be a type or rescue mission of Koala's vague and cagey explanations were of any indication. She clearly respected Ace and his choices, and would let him choose his own path when the time came. It was all Garp could hope for. He was glad Ace found a friend.

He hoped she would not abandon him as well.

The desire to take Ace home became so strong Garp almost choked on it. But he resisted it, because there was no other choice. Not if he wanted Ace to  _live_  and not die in a cage of Garp's creation.

Garp could not help Ace. His attempts would only smother his grandson and break him further. So he had to let him go, back into the cruel world that tore him apart and left him broken. Back into the world that forced him to scrape the pieces back together into the shape of a teenaged boy, holding them in place with his armor of pain and madness. Garp would let him go free, because he would  _not_  crush Ace's spark in his hands.

But Garp would  _not_  forget. He would not forgive. Ace appeared to have no interest in seeking out those that hurt him, but Garp would  _never_  let them go. Even if it took decades, he  _would_  find the sons of bitches that laughed as his grandson screamed.

And when he found them, those pirates would wish Akainu had gotten to them first.

OPOPOPOPOP

Edward Newgate was not a man to think much about the past. If he did, it was normally to look back with fondness, of good times, of times he met and created his family. Sometimes Whitebeard would look back and question some things, thinking deeply about his decisions and wondering if he had made the right choice, but those times were a rarity even in his old age.

Now, as he sat in his bedroom and nursed a half-full bottle of sake between his palms, he looked to the past and contemplated. He wondered. He questioned. Because hindsight truly did give clarity.

And Ace's words haunted the Yonko.

" _You are a fool if you think your crew is a family! You think none of them will betray you? None of them will leave you? None will abandon the others when you're gone? You'll die and they'll splinter apart! They're not a family, they're a bunch of misfits that'll ditch each other first chance they—"_

Were those the snarls of a furious child, the rant of a damaged soul, or the warning of someone who knew all about betrayal? Specifically, did he know about Teach's betrayal? He must have, even then. Had something tipped him off that the other Whitebeards did not know about or refused to see? Or could he truly see the future? If he could see the future, it may explain why another Yonko was interested in him. Or could it be that a Yonko  _would_  be interested in him if they found out? The possibilities were endless. And disturbing.

But none of that bothered Whitebeard as much as the thought of Teach's possible betrayal. The thought of one of his sons being a traitor and plotting against him in the background created an undeniable chill in Whitebeard's chest. Which was stronger? His anger or his sorrow?

The thought of a son of his betraying him was incomprehensible.

It was unbelievable.

Yet Whitebeard found himself wondering. Doubting Teach. Doubting one of the children he had welcomed into his family with open arms. It simply made no sense for Teach to betray them. Why would he do it?  _Why_  would he betray his brothers, sisters, and father? Whitebeard did not have the answers. Teach might, if he truly were a traitor, but if he was it was doubtful he would give them. That left one person to ask.

Whitebeard may have been content to leave the child alone for a while before approaching him again, but that was no longer a possibility. He needed answers that only Portgas D. Ace could provide. But more importantly, if Ace did have such an ability he would be a target. The boy was strong, but he needed people to watch his back.

No one could survive the world alone.

OPOPOPOPOP

"Are we good?"

"Yes."

"How about now?"

"Yes."

"...Now?"

" _Yes!_ " Koala groaned as she looked through the scope for what felt like the hundredth time. "There are  _no_  signs of anyone around us. Your grandfather  _isn't_  chasing us."

Ace scrutinized her for a moment, grey eyes sharp, before slouching in his seat. "Okay then. Sorry for being paranoid."

His tone held its usual dry sarcasm but Koala still winced. "Sorry."

Ace dismissed her apology with a wave. "Hey, don't you start feeling guilty now. You promised."

"I did promise I'd  _try_." she corrected. "It's a work in progress."

Ace did not seem that irritated by her admission. "Understandable." He glanced out the window and grimaced. "To make up for it, could you indulge my paranoia and look one more time? Gramps isn't known for letting things go. He latches on with his teeth until his target stops moving. Then he shakes the body a few times just to make sure they're good and dead."

Koala hummed and looked through the scope at the empty blue sea around them that had no Garp in sight. Their departure from the island had been surprisingly smooth, as in Garp had not attempted to kidnap Ace and bring him 'home'. Garp  _had_  tried to whack Ace on the head— and grinned when Ace successfully dodged the blow and called him a crazy old man— but other than that, it was a pleasantly mundane goodbye. Garp was a bit tense when he hugged Ace one last time but Koala supposed that was to be expected.

What little Ace had shared about his experience was enough to make her skin crawl. As a Revolutionary, she had been trained to expect and resist torture. She had seen those who had come home after being captured, with drawn faces, new scars, and haunted looks in their eyes. The information Revolutionaries held was invaluable, and sought viciously by the World Government.

She doubted those pirates tortured Ace for information. From the sound of it, they tortured him for  _fun_ and laughed while he struggled and screamed. They hurt him only to make him hurt, and for no other reason. It made her want to retch, because if that was the case, there would be no way for Ace to stop the torture other than escaping. No information he could give would make them give up until he was dead.

Koala could not imagine what it must have been like.

She tried not to think about it.

She did not  _want_  to think about it.

Ace huffed lowly, mercifully drawing her out of her thoughts. "Honestly, I'm  _still_  waiting for him to appear out of nowhere, grab the sub, and drag it and me to Dawn Island."

"Can he—?" Koala paused and reconsidered her words. "He can. And would."

Ace nodded absently, gazing out into the water ahead. "Gramps is a punch-happy menace but he can be the biggest overprotective grandpa-hen on the seas under the right circumstances. And apparently this—" His lips quirked humorlessly as he gestured at himself. "—can be considered the right circumstances." He looked neither pleased nor displeased about that as he scratched his cheek. In fact, he merely seemed puzzled by the unexpected appearance of the 'grandpa-hen'. "I can't believe he didn't try to carry me away when I fell asleep."

"I was there." Koala pointed out.

"Wouldn't have stopped him." Ace muttered. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, making them crack. "But like I said: the rarely-seen grandpa-hen mode was activated."

He absently drummed his fingers on the controls. Koala noticed he had been twitchy ever since they got back on the sub, as if he wanted to be up and moving but was forcing himself to remain in place. But he did not request she take over piloting the sub and she did not ask.

"So did anything happen while I was out of it?" Ace questioned.

"Nope. We just watched the ocean and talked a bit." Koala said honestly. "And by a bit, I mean a couple sentences." It had been a little strange for the Revolutionary to simply sit next to such a powerful and dangerous Marine, but Koala supposed they both had no reason to fight and a lot to think about.

Ace hummed. "Sounds peaceful. I'm shocked I slept so quietly. Usually I scream."

Koala balked. "What?"

Ace shot her a look that suggested he thought she was incredibly obtuse. "I have nightmares. And sometimes I get up and act out my nightmares. So don't come in my room when I'm asleep, okay? I might not recognize you as a friend."

Koala considered his warning and nodded. "Got it."

Ace raised an eyebrow at her. "That's all you have to say? You are way too accepting. I'm  _dangerous_. And I'm serious about not recognizing you." He sounded more resigned than worried, like he was used to people not taking his warnings seriously.

"I had a pipe thrown at me by Sabo when he had a nightmare. It got stuck in the wall next to my head. I've also punched through a wall next to  _his_  head when he tried to wake me." Koala said firmly. "I'm not going to kick you off the sub because of nightmares."

She did not ask what horrors filled his nightmares. In return, he did not ask her. Both knew they would not get answers from the other. Not now. They trusted each other, but neither of them were ready to show their scars. But Koala was not content to leave the topic at that.

"Ace?" She waited until he looked her way. "If you ever want to talk, come to me. About  _anything_. You're not going to scare me away." She leaned forward and poked him in the shoulder. "Got it?"

His lips did not move, but she would like to think his calculating grey eyes softened. "Thank you. Same to you. No scaring. About  _anything_." His eyebrow quirked knowingly.

Koala's gaze darted away. "I'm fine."

"And I'm the Queen of the fluffy unicorns." Ace said flatly.

"You really need to stop sharing your coveted secrets with me, Your Highness." Koala said sweetly. "Or would it be 'Your Fluffiness'?"

Ace rolled his eyes. "Ms. Revolutionary, I must regretfully inform you that your sarcasm-detecting skills are severely lacking." he said blandly. "That one was a lie. Sorry to disappoint you." Despite his usual dryly-delivered brand of teasing, his grey gaze was sharp and his head tipped in a silent question.

Koala realized what he was asking and shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. "Maybe we'll talk later."

Ace turned away. "I can respect that. I know this is hypocritical of me, but don't hold it in. It'll just get worse."

" _As you can see with what happened to me."_  he did not say.

"Noted." Koala said, and tried to force the image of Ace sobbing hysterically and staring unseeingly into the distance out of her mind. She checked the time and stifled a curse, turning to the exit of the control area. "I have to do something. I'll be back."

"Say 'hi' to your Revolutionary buddy for me." Ace called after her.

Koala was not surprised he knew what she was doing. She would be more surprised if he didn't. It was not like she kept the fact she made reports a secret. She headed to a small room deep in the belly of the submarine and pressed a panel on the wall.

It slid aside and she settled in the small space within, watching it slide closed behind her. A Den Den Mushi slept peacefully on the table, eye stalks slightly drooped. Koala picked up the receiver and put in a number, settling back in her chair as she waited for an answer. The line clicked.

" _You're two hours late."_

"We had a near-miss with some Marines." Koala said, unbothered by the sharp greeting. She continued before her contact could speak. "I'll give you the details in my report, like I  _always_  do, Terry."

" _Of course you will."_  Terry Gilteo said, a sigh in his voice.  _"I don't know why I bother to have you call. It'd be faster to send a written report in with all the trouble you get into."_

An almost-smile pulled at Koala's lips. "I suppose."

" _Have you had any luck since our last conversation?"_  Terry asked.

Although his tone remained professional, Koala caught a hint of concern there. She did her best to ignore it. Yes, her voice had been a little shaky when she admitted she  _lost Sabo_ , and still shaky when she told Terry she was going on what could be a wild goose chase with a stranger, but things had changed since then. She wasn't floundering and hopeless anymore. She had a lead. More than a lead, hopefully.

_Sabo will be okay. He's strong._

"I have what I believe to be Sabo's location." she said without the slightest tremor in her voice. "He's likely en-route to or at the Twisting Islands auction."

" _That's excellent news."_  The Den Den said.  _"How did you locate it?"_

Koala resisted the urge to remind him it would be in her report. "We found records in an information outpost."

"' _We'."_  Terry murmured the word contemplatively and Koala sighed, already knowing what was coming. Sure enough, his next questions were no surprise. _"And what of your 'ally'? Is he trustworthy?"_

The blatant suspicion in his voice made Koala question his acting skills. If he could not hide it here, how could he hide his emotions elsewhere? She ignored that slightly petty reaction and leaned against the table, crossing her legs.

"Yes, he's trustworthy." Koala said firmly, and not for the first time. She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Don't tell me you're going to do this  _again_ —"

" _I'm just saying it's suspicious."_  Terry interrupted.  _"He just_ _ **happens**_ _to attack the slave ship you're tracking, just_ _ **happens**_ _to be on the same island as you, and just_ _ **happens**_ _to offer to assist you?"_

"He's not a spy, Terry." Koala said flatly. "He hates the Marines and the World Government."

Koala may have not known much about Ace before today— and knew she was nowhere close to learning even a drop of his history— but a blind man could see his utter loathing for most Marines and the corrupt government they supported.

" _Marines are not the only ones trying to infiltrate our ranks."_  the Revolutionary agent insisted.  _"He met with Red Hair, and the last time he was seen was when he was captured by Whitebeard—"_

"I know that." Koala interjected. "He's not a Red Hair or Whitebeard. He's not a pirate anymore either."

" _So he's a rogue element."_

"More like an independent one." She sighed and rubbed at her forehead more vigorously. "Do we have to go through this argument again?"

" _I suppose not."_  Terry admitted stiffly.  _"But I do not trust him."_

"I know." Koala replied, her tiredness as blatant as his terse tone. "You've told me before."

Terry grunted and Koala knew he was holding his tongue.  _"Anything else to report?"_

She hesitated. "No, but there's something I'd like you to do for me on the side. Information gathering."

He huffed.  _"Information gathering_ _ **is**_ _my job. What is it?"_

Koala's mouth felt dry. She swallowed. "There's a pirate crew I want you to identify and locate."

" _You've_ _ **got**_ _to be—"_ There was a pause from the other side of the line before Terry growled.  _"Let me guess. Your ally ran into some trouble on the high seas."_

Koala grimaced. "Before I met him, yes. I just need you to find out—"

" _No can do, Koala."_

Koala froze. She gripped the receiver tightly. "What?"

He sighed.  _"We are an organization trying to bring down the government, Koala. We don't have time to find a pirate crew that hurt one person._ "

Fire ignited in Koala's chest at the words and her teeth clenched hard enough that she heard them scrape together. "We are meant to bring justice to this world.  _Real_  justice, not that farce the World Government claims is justice. They won't care about things like this, because pirates hurt a pirate. But Ace is a damn good person, and the  _monsters_  that hurt him are still out there, walking free and hurting innocent people. You can ignore that, but I  _won't_. I want them  _found_  and I want them _taken down._ "

Her snarled speech was met with a pregnant pause.

" _You're attached."_ Terry said neutrally. _"That's why you're so invested."_

"Of course I am. Ace is my friend." Her eyes narrowed. "And that  _isn't_  a problem."

The snail dipped its head.  _"I agree. We aren't the Cipher Pol. We don't expect agents to betray allies at the drop of a hat. We'd be no better than the World Government if we did. But you should still be careful. He's an unknown."_

"We  _all_  started as unknowns." Koala pointed out.

That got through to Terry and he hummed in agreement.  _"Fine. I'll look into it."_

Koala relaxed. "Thank you. I'll send the little information I have. It's not much, but it's a start."

" _I'll expect your report. And if I find anything, I'll tell you during our calls."_

"No." Koala said quickly. "If you get any information, send it to Dragon's father."

The Den Den's eyes bugged out.  _"You want me to send it to_ _ **Garp**_ _?!"_

"He's the one investigating." Koala explained briefly. "He wants the pirates found." Her gaze hardened into a glare. "Our interests align in this."

Terry sighed again, heavy and loud.  _"_ _ **Fine**_ _. Do you want me to send it to you as well?_ "

Koala thought of Ace's broken smiles and his breakdown on the beach. "...No. It's not my business." she said quietly. "I want Ace to  _tell_  me what happened, not learn it through digging into his past."

Terry paused, considering her words.  _"_ _Huh._ _You really trust him, don't you?"_

"With my life." Koala stated. More quietly she said. "And Sabo's."

Terry seemed to be grasping the weight of her trust in Ace. The snail's stalks tipped in an almost curious manner. _"Think he'll become one of us?"_

Koala hesitated. "I don't really think so. He isn't interested. But anything could happen."

Terry scrutinized her.  _"Do you mean that or are you just saying that?"_

Koala thought about it. "I don't know what he wants to do."  _And I don't think he does either._ "I'll send the report soon. Koala out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that don't remember, Terry Gilteo is the guy with the kangaroo hat that tells Dragon about Luffy's bounty. He has appeared other times but that's the time I remember him most from, haha. I considered using Hack but then I remembered "kangaroo hat guy" and wanted to use him. Because kangaroo hats are cool— I mean, he seems like an information-gathering guy. That's what I meant to say. :)


	20. Don't Mess With Grandpa

"Marco, I did a stupid." Thatch said.

Marco looked sidelong at Thatch and turned back to the map he was perusing. "Really?  _You_  did something stupid? Color me shocked, yoi. Is that why you and Haruta have been moping in separate corners of the ship and avoiding each other for the past week?"

"You noticed?" Thatch smacked his forehead. "Wait, what am I saying? Of course you noticed. You're  _you_."

"While it is gratifying to know you think I have a mystical ability to be aware of everything stupid my siblings do, we're on a small boat." Marco pointed out. "I'd be hard-pressed  _not_  to notice you and Haruta have been moping, yoi. So what did you do that was stupid? Outside of the usual stupidity, that is."

Rather than pout like he normally would, Thatch averted his gaze. "Well… Uh… You see I… ImighthavebroughtupHaruta'spast."

Despite the rapid delivery of the admission, Marco clearly heard him. His bemused expression shifted and he looked like he could not decide which urge was stronger; the one that begged him to shake Thatch or the desire to slap his brother upside the head. His twitching hand suggested the former was gaining ground.

" _Thatch_." Marco growled.

"I  _know_." Thatch moaned. "I know it was a bad idea. But it's the reason he has such a problem with Ace. He's convinced Ace is an assassin and that plus how everyone treated the kid is making all of Haruta's old insecurities flare up so he's lashing out instead of talking like he  _always_  does—" Thatch cut himself off and gestured helplessly. "You know how he gets. I hoped that confronting him and talking about it would make him feel better but he stormed out before I could try."

"So you came to me." Marco said in a resigned tone that suggested he already knew where this was going.

"Of course I did. You're the biggest of the brothers. Not physically of course but in big-brother-wisdomness." Thatch's tone was teasing but the way he gripped Marco's hand was desperate. "Haruta was grumpy-avoiding me before but he's  _angry_ -avoiding me now and I don't know how to fix it. Help, please?"

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why exactly can't you corner him yourself?"

"He'll brush  _me_  off but not  _you_. Haruta looks up to you." Thatch said simply. "So if you try to talk to him he'll listen to you. Use your big-brother-wisdomness and help me out.  _Please?_ "

Thatch was much too old to do a proper puppy-dog look, but he could get pretty close. Either that, or Marco quickly grew tired of seeing the potentially-disturbing knock-off version on his face. Either option was a possibility, though Thatch preferred to think it was the former.

Right on cue, Marco relented. " _Fine_ , yoi."

Thatch beamed and hugged him. "Thank you!"

Marco rolled his eyes and patted his arm consolingly. "Don't worry your mopey little mind,  _big brother_  will go and fix everything for his dearest  _little brother_."

Thatch pouted. "Okay, I admit I set myself up for that one. But  _come on_."

Marco ignored him. "First we need to find Haruta—"

The door opened and Haruta poked his head in.

Thatch gaped. "Marco, you're magical."

Haruta ignored him and looked only at Marco. "We're heading into a storm." Haruta snapped. "Get on deck."

Plans to stop Haruta from moping around were forgotten and the three pirates rushed to the deck. On the Moby Dick a storm would be little issue but their smaller vessel was much less prepared for the churning seas.

Bay and Izo were already on deck. Izo gripped the wheel as locks of drenched black hair waved wildly in the wind and clung to his face. Bay had discarded her hat and was struggling to help him hold onto the wheel.

Thatch stepped onto the deck and his pompadour instantly deflated, with strands falling forward over his eyes. He brushed them away hastily and stumbled over towards his siblings with the grace of a rookie who had never stepped off land. Lightning flashed and Thatch cringed, praying the boat would not be hit.

Another lightning bolt lit up the sky and Thatch paused, squinting into the darkness. He swore he saw a shape in the distance. Was it just his imagination or was something out there—?

A huge figure landed in front of Thatch, hulking and fearsome as lightning flashed behind him.

"WHITEBEARDS!" Monkey D. Garp thundered. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY GRANDSON?!"

Thatch gaped up at the infamous Vice Admiral, mind going blank like a jelly-legged rookie who had never faced a Marine before. In his defense, this Marine was  _Garpthe_ _F_ _reakingFist,_ so excuse Thatch for standing there and gaping at him like a terrified and concussed fish.

Garp glowered down at Thatch with such rage in his eyes that the Fourth Division Commander was surprised the word " **kill** " was not stamped across his blue irises in glowing red.

_This is how I die_ , Thatch thought faintly.

He continued to gape stupidly at Garp, voice caught in his throat and heart trying to escape his chest until Marco grabbed his arm and yanked him behind him. Thatch may have complained in any other situation but his brain was still struggling to wrap itself around the fact that Garp the Fist was present and angry on their little boat, so in that moment Marco was the best brother  _ever_. Thatch wasn't going to make any bird-related jokes for a week. In Marco's hearing, anyway.

"Please consider the repercussions of your actions before attacking us, Vice Admiral." the First Division Commander said levelly.

Garp sneered. "I'm not here to attack you. I was looking for your damn whale ship." He smiled but his grin was not pretty. Not at all. "Imagine my joy when instead I happened to hear word from my men that a small Whitebeard vessel was in nearby waters."

Making his unpleasant smile all the more unnerving, his snarling tone suggested that he may be easily swayed into changing his mind and attacking them if he felt like it. Thatch exchanged a worried glance with Bay. If Garp was angry enough that he had intended to find Oyaji— and clearly not for a nice chat about the adventures of arrogant youths these days— something was  _very_  wrong, and this could be  _very_  bad.

_Understatement of the year_ , Thatch thought and repressed a nervous giggle.

"Okay." Marco said in the forcibly calm tone he used during tense hostage situations.

Thatch realized he and his siblings were the 'hostages' in this situation and swallowed another hysterical giggle. Marco's shoulders stiffened under his wet jacket but he did not turn around to face his choking sibling. He could not risk turning his back on Garp.

"What do we have to do with your grandson?" he asked the Marine instead.

Garp's glare could make the tide flee for its life. "You _captured_   _Ace_."

It took a moment for Thatch to put two and two together. In his defense, two and two equaled five at this point because  _what the actual hell?_  Ace was  _Garp the Fist's_  grandson? Since  _when?!_ Well, obviously since he was born but that was not the point.

Thatch was not the only one stunned by the news. Haruta's eyes were wide, Bay's lips were mashed together like she was trying not to speak, and Izo looked just a bit paler than usual.

Marco recovered first. "I see. We were not aware of Ace's relationship to you."

"He would never give that information to his  _enemies_." Garp growled and yep, Thatch could  _definitely_  see the family resemblance now.

A beam of light blinded him and he winced, raising his arm to cover his face. He lowered it and noticed bits of sunlight streaming through the formerly black clouds. It appeared the storm had passed. If Thatch were superstitious he may think it was scared off by the Marine.

"You ran into Ace, then?" Marco asked calmly, and Thatch had to admire his brother's courage.

Or was it stupidity, because was he  _really_  asking Garp the freaking Fist questions right now? Had Thatch's stupidity infected Marco? Wait, Thatch wasn't prone to stupidity. He was a  _genius_   _mastermind_.

"I did." Garp growled, and Thatch stopped wondering if he had insulted himself to recall that there was a very angry Marine grandpa to deal with. Large hands curled into fists, and Thatch heard his knuckles crack. "I  _thought_ Whitebeard was a man of trust." Garp continued in a dark tone, and not even Marco dared to interrupt him. Blue eyes narrowed to slits. "Allow an old man to be philosophical for a moment."

His voice was more appropriate for threatening death upon his enemies than a philosophical debate but Thatch was not about to argue semantics.

"My grandson was never a cheerful child." Garp stated. "There was too much darkness in his life for that. But he found a light that nurtured his own until he could smile and laugh like a child again. Last I saw him before he left home, he was  _happy_." Garp's blue eyes were cold. "At our last meeting, that darkness was worse than ever. After he was forced to escape  _you_."

Thatch used an outsider's perspective to put together a jagged picture and admitted it looked  _bad_. Ace was possibly-damaged but functional when he went on the Moby Dick. When he sailed  _off_  the Moby Dick, he was nowhere near as functional after getting his secrets prodded at by multiple pirates and trying to kill himself when questioned.

...Did Garp know about that last part? Thatch doubted he did.

_Well, shit,_  he thought.

Marco seemed to come to the same conclusions. "We did not harm him." he swore.

Garp eyed him unblinkingly and with such intensity that Thatch was surprised Marco did not burst into flames. The deadly kind of flames, not his blue and yellow Phoenix ones. After a tense moment where Thatch was waiting for Garp to split the boat in two and did some mental calculations as to how close the nearest island was, the Marine huffed and crossed his arms.

"The brat claimed as much. He refused to let me out of his sight before he was sure he convinced me you weren't responsible."

"Ace  _defended_  us?" Haruta demanded.

Garp shot him a neutral look. "Quite aggressively. He melted the sand into molten glass to keep me trapped in place." Anger receded in a heartbeat, giving Thatch a minor case of whiplash, and he smiled fondly. "If I were a lesser man, he would have burned my legs badly enough I'd have been unable to walk for the rest of my life."

Thatch was starting to see where Ace got some of his violent habits from.

Garp's smile vanished like a black hole swallowed a sun. "I know my grandson was captured, tortured, and  _broken_  by pirates before you 'acquired' him."

The words went through Thatch's head.

They went through again.

On the third attempt, he realized what Garp said and the color drained from his face.

"Oh."

"Yes." Garp said coldly. " _Oh_. So since I am here, what do you know about it?"

Thatch was  _definitely_  not intimidated by Garp's glare. He was a proud Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates who was scared of no Marine.

Except Garp was not here as a Marine. He was here as a grandfather. His family had been hurt and he wanted payback. That just made his anger scarier, because this was  _personal_. Yes, the Whitebeards outnumbered Garp but in matters like this, that was inconsequential. Thatch had seen Oyaji when one of his children was hurt. Numbers would not stop Garp now.

"I swear we know nothing." Marco said for Thatch. "Ace did not tell us about his past, yoi."

Garp was undeterred. " _You_  may not know what happened. But the  _Spades_  might."

"They're Whitebeards now." Thatch said before his mind could realize what his mouth was saying and tell it to shut up.

Garp looked ready to spit magma. "I'm aware of their change of allegiance." He lowered his head, eyes shadowed and Thatch thought he saw something pained in his expression. It vanished before he could be sure. "They left the first chance they got, just like Ace knew they would."

That raised a  _lot_  more questions but the apparently anticipated 'abandonment' was not Thatch's first priority. He stifled the instinct to vehemently defend his new brothers and sisters. Anything he said would fall on deaf ears. Garp would not care to understand the intricacies of the Spade Pirates' decision to join Whitebeard. All he cared about was that Ace's crew had up and left him for another one. Ace may not care, but it was clear as day that Garp  _did_.

Thatch's heart tried to crawl out of his throat. He's _going to kill them._

Marco seemed to realize the same thing for his half-lidded eyes widened the slightest bit. Thatch only noticed his newfound alarm because he knew to look for his brother's tells.

"I apologize, but I cannot contact any Spades at the moment, yoi." Marco lied through his teeth.

"How  _convenient_." Garp said coldly. "Allow me another question then: Why are you pursuing my grandson?"

The topic shift was brusque and startling but they honestly should have expected it. Thatch's first instinct was to deny that they were following Ace. He wisely kept the lie to himself and instead told the truth.

"We just want to make sure he's okay."

Perhaps it was his earnest tone that saved him, but Garp's glare somehow did not vaporize him into ashes. "My grandson does not need your ' _help_ '."

"But we are the reason Ace is alone." Thatch insisted because he was a lovable idiot like that sometimes, even when faced with a grandfather's anger.

Memory clicked and he resisted a twitch. He had nearly forgotten about their mission to discover what Ace knew about Teach. Or perhaps he did not want to remember that Ace possibly had information that proved Teach was planning to betray their family. Something must have shown on his face because Garp's lip curled.

"So you're pursuing him out of a sense of guilt, then?" Garp's tone showed just how much he believed that. In other words, not at all. And a mere breath later, he called them out on it. "You're lying. You are seeking him out for a reason."

None of them said a word. Teach's betrayal was only a possibility, and there was no way in hell any of the Whitebeard Pirates would share that possibility with a Marine. Even if said Marine looked ready to kill them if they sneezed wrong. Garp's large fists clenched, and Marco's shoulders tensed in response, but neither broke the standoff.

Thatch could not bear the silence. "Look—" he said, and blue eyes nearly pinned him in place. He cleared his throat. "Look, I… I genuinely just want to help Ace. It's not because of guilt or some ulterior motive. He's a good kid and I want him to be happy. He… He left in a rough state and I want to see that he's  _fine_  with my own eyes. Those are my only reasons for being out here. Nothing more, nothing less."

It felt really weird to be saying this to Garp the Fist, but a little less weird to be saying it to Ace's grandfather. If Thatch squinted and tipped his head a bit, he could pretend Oyaji stood in Garp's place. Not because they looked alike, but because this was not about Marines and pirates. This was about  _family_.

"I just want to  _help_." Thatch repeated softly.

Garp was frowning at him, but his eyes did not scream  _murder_  anymore. They sort of read ' _maybe_ -murder', which was an improvement in Thatch's book—

"What's your name?"

Thatch jumped, surprised by the question.

"Er, I'm Thatch. Hello!" he said before his brain— or Marco— could hiss at him to shut up. He awkwardly waved, realized what he was doing, and hastily lowered his hand. "You don't know me?"

Rather than answer, Garp grunted unhelpfully and crossed his arms. "I've heard of you. You're not that active. Word is you're too soft to be a pirate."

_Only when it comes to_ _lonely_ _family_ _members who need my help_ _._  "I hear that a lot."

"I see." Garp said, but the last of his rage seemed to have faded. Or at least, it seemed under control. Now that he was not plotting their grisly and drawn-out murders, Garp took the moment to study the pirates. His gaze rested on Haruta and he did a double-take. "Your face is familiar. Do I know you?"

Thatch repressed a wince.

Haruta tensed. "No."

"Hmm." Garp grunted.

He continued to study Haruta, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second, so Thatch came to his brother's rescue.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Ace is going, would you?" he asked rhetorically. It was foolish to hope Garp would tell them but—

"Ace is headed to the Twisting Islands."

...Or Garp might just tell them. Just like that. No struggle or bargaining or anything. That was a possibility since the whole family tree was  _freaking nuts_.

Thatch guessed he could have a thousand years to study them and would still have no idea how their minds worked. Was Garp hoping Ace would react violently to the Whitebeards' presence? All things considered, Ace just might throw some flames when he found out the Commanders were still following him. Thatch should fireproof his hair.

"Thank you for telling us." Marco said.

Garp grunted. "You find out anything about those pirates, tell me." There was no room for negotiating, though Marco did not seem to mind.

"Of course." Marco agreed steadily.

Garp did not give more details or confront them on how they could discover anything on their own with the Spades 'unavailable'. He merely walked to the railing and jumped off. Thatch dashed over in time to see Garp swimming in the direction of his ship. He slowly shook his head and looked to his siblings.

"So did we all simultaneously get drunk or did that just happen?"

"It happened." Haruta confirmed. His expression was unreadable. "Are we really going to tell him anything?"

"It depends on what we find out." Marco said vaguely.

"Garp is a Marine." Haruta reminded them, as if they needed to be reminded.

"And Ace is his grandson." Marco replied. "I think that matters more in this instance, yoi."

A particularly loud splash caught their attention and they turned in time to see what appeared to be a Sea King go flying over their vessel. The dazed creature landed in the water with a splash and sank beneath the waves before it bobbed back up to the surface. It was not moving. Was it dead? Thatch looked at the dent in its skull.

_Yep. Definitely dead._

He joined his siblings in looking in the direction the Sea King had come from and saw Garp aboard a relatively small vessel. It was a bit too far to see, but Thatch would bet his favorite pot that Garp was glaring at them. Thatch would like to think Garp had punched a Sea King their way for fun but he was not able to delude himself. The Whitebeard Pirates warily watched the Marine's boat sail out of sight and looked at each other in stunned silence.

"Well, that was a thing." Haruta said weakly.

Thatch's giggle might have sounded a bit hysterical, but he would never admit that out loud.

OPOPOPOPOP

_It was done._

_A shudder passed through Ace's aching body as he slid down the wall of Doflamingo's bedroom, leaving a smear of red in his wake. He took a shuddering breath and bit back a scream, but did not bother to clutch at the deep slashes across his chest. They were Doflamingo's final attack, and since Ace knew he was going to kill the Warlord with his next move, he did not bother to dodge._

_Luffy was dead._

_Again._

_He had been killed alongside Law by Doflamingo three months ago._

_Again._

_All because Law had put his plan into action a whole three months earlier than Ace expected._ _Ace counted Law as one of the people on the 'keep alive' list because of all the times the doctor saved Luffy's life— not to mention Luffy liked the surly man and was distraught whenever he died— but Ace could not help but hate him at the moment. Why had he acted now, and not when he was supposed to?_

_Ace did not know what caused_ _a change_ _._

_He did not care._ _It did not matter anyway._

_This loop would be over soon._

_Ace let his chin drop so he could watch the puddle of blood grow around him. His skin felt cold_ _and his senses were fading_ _, so he knew it would not be much longer now. He heard the thudding of rapid footsteps but did not bother trying to rise_ _from his slumped position_ _. He was dying (again). This failed loop would end before his approaching enemies could capture him._

_The door burst open and Ace caught sight of booted feet. The grief-stricken cry_ _that came from the newcomer_ _startled him, and he wondered if one of Doflamingo's men had stumbled upon their master's body._

_Hands grabbed him and he shut his eyes, reminding himself he would die before they could torture him for long. The person laid him on his back and… began applying pressure to his wounds?_

_Ace's eyes fluttered open— when had they closed?— and he was surprised to see a familiar— and a little unwelcome— face._

_Why was Revolutionary Sabo here?_

_And why did he look so scared?_

_Soft whimpers reached Ace's cotton-filled ears and he slowly recognized the sounds as words, spoken in a soft, hitching voice._

" _No." Revolutionary Sabo was whispering. "No no no no_ _ **no**_ _! Stay with…!"_

_Revolutionary Sabo's voice grew muffled before fading away. His mouth kept moving but Ace could not hear him anymore. He could not really see him either. His vision was going dark. It was time for the next loop. Maybe he would save Luffy this time around._

_As death embraced him and his vision faded completely, Ace swore Revolutionary Sabo was crying._

Ace slowly opened his eyes and grimaced at the ceiling.  _Well, that could have been a worse memory._

Since he was trying to save the man, it was no surprise his few memories of Revolutionary Sabo were popping up. And by few, he meant maybe a dozen or two. Ace avoided Revolutionary Sabo like… well, not like the plague. More like a Devil Fruit user tried to avoid Seastone.

Encountering the Revolutionary Sabo was not exactly  _painful_  after Ace accepted he and Sabo were different people, but it was still uncomfortable. Because every time, no matter how many loops had passed, Ace would look at his top hat, scrutinize his mannerisms, and wonder if just  _maybe_ he had missed a sign that this was his dead brother.

Then Revolutionary Sabo would look at him and ask why he was staring, his tone polite but usually a bit threatening.  _Every_ _damn_ _time_ — like a masochist or a naive child who hoped  _maybe_  the fire would not hurt them this time— Ace would comment Revolutionary Sabo reminded him of someone he knew.

Depending on the short impression Ace left, Revolutionary Sabo would either smile politely and say that was impossible since he did not know any pirates, or curtly give a one-worded answer and leave. Honestly, it was more likely Revolutionary Sabo had seen what the Celestial Dragons had done to Sabo and adopted his name and look as a reminder than for him to  _be_  Ace's Sabo.

But Ace kept on hoping and having the same dumb thoughts that  _maybe_. Some said the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting the outcome to be different, and Ace was already a bit insane back then.

It took a while for Ace to grow numb to the unintentional dismissals and realize what a fool he was being. Shortly after that— loop-wise— he did everything he could to avoid the Revolutionary. He may be messed up and knew he deserved to suffer, but he was not about to seek out the Revolutionary Sabo so he could tear Ace's stupid, naive hope to shreds  _again._

Because _Revolutionary Sabo_   _was not his Sabo and never would be._

After a while, Ace  _refused_  to go through that pain anymore to the point where he intentionally avoided Revolutionary Sabo. It was better to leave him to live his life than try to see someone else in him.

_But now I have to find the guy. I'm inevitably going to meet him. Great._

Ace stretched and looked out the circular window of his room. The sub was not moving. Had Koala fallen asleep at the controls again? Ace got out of bed. Stefan raised his head and rose to his paws, padding silently at Ace's side as he exited his room. He peered into the control area to find it empty. It seemed Koala had actually wandered to bed before falling asleep for once. If Ace did not know better, he would think she was as narcoleptic as he used to be.

_Now I have a host of other problems to deal with._

Ace glanced out the front of the sub and paused, noticing movement in the water ahead. He pulled down the scope and looked around before releasing it with a sigh. Stefan yipped questioningly and he grimaced at the dog.

"We're close to the first of the whirlpools. If something knocks us into one we'd be screwed." he dragged a hand down his face and sighed again. "Guess I have to wake up Ms. Revolutionary."

Ace hurried back down the hall and halted outside of Koala's door. He knocked hesitantly, but there was no response. Ace shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to proceed. Ace had never been in Koala's room. The room was not off limits but he never saw the need to go into her personal space. And since she had nightmares like him, he might need to be prepared for flying fists.

Ace tried knocking a few times and even pounded on the door but there was no response. Koala wasn't dead, was she? What if she had fallen and hit her head? Ace would like to think he was fretting but it had happened before.

Once he had stumbled upon Thatch in his room and thought he had been attacked by Teach, when in reality Thatch had slipped on a sock and cut his head open on the corner of his desk. Of all the ways his bro—  _not-his-brother-this-time_  could die…

Ace reluctantly opened the door to Koala's room. The first thing he noticed was that Koala was indeed fast asleep on the bed, hugging her pillow with a line of drool dripping from her agape mouth. The second thing he noticed, as he stepped into the space, was the top hat that sat upon the desk.

Despite himself, Ace froze next to the damn thing and took its appearance in. It was a black top hat, with blue goggles attached. Did Sabo's hat look like that? Did it have goggles? Or did it have a ribbon? Both? Neither? Ace could not remember. What kind of terrible sibling could not remember their dead brother—

_He isn't Sabo_ , Ace reminded himself.  _Don't do this to yourself again._

Ace pointedly avoided looking at the top hat for too long. He approached the bed and frowned down at Koala, who snored obliviously. For a battle-ready Revolutionary, she sure slept like a rock. Ace was a little tempted to dump water on her or flip the mattress but that was a sure way to get a bad reaction out of her. So he did the smart thing and looked to his canine companion.

"Stefan, kisses."

Stefan leaped onto the bed and happily licked Koala's face. She yelped and turned her face away, nose wrinkling as Stefan licked her cheek. Blue eyes slowly opened and Koala sat up, gently shoving Stefan away from her. Stefan weaved around her arm to lick her chin and she scowled.

"No, Stefan. No!" She unsuccessfully tried to ward off the enthusiastic dog. "Ace, call him off!"

Ace whistled. Stefan instantly stopped licking Koala and trotted back to his side. Koala glowered at him and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"I never knew you had a prankster side," she growled.

"Not a prankster, though I do dabble in the art now and then." Ace said blandly. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on his left bicep before scratching at the crossed-out S. "I had to wake you up and it's hard to wake up fighting when an adorably doggy is showing you love."

Koala paused mid eye-roll and considered him curiously. "How'd you know it would work?"

"Experience." Ace said vaguely. "Now get your butt out of bed before I sic Stefan on you again. We're too close to the first set of whirlpools."

Koala sat up straighter. " _What?_  I stopped here because I thought the water was empty. The Twisting Islands are still days away."

"Yes." Ace agreed. "The whirlpools are pretty far away from them. The  _first_  batch, anyway. Which we're close enough to that one shove will send us into them."

His terse urgency got through to Koala and she got out of bed. Ace noticed she was still in her day clothes. "What do we need to do?"

Ace did not ask why she was asking him. They both knew he was more knowledgeable of the area than her. In fact, he was more knowledgeable than she realized. He led the way back towards the control room, talking as he went.

"First, we need to surface."

"Why?" Koala asked as she sat at the controls.

"It's easier to navigate up there." Ace said. "And I can use my fire to propel us away if I have to."

Koala frowned as she considered the shifting water in the distance. "Surely the sub can handle the whirlpools."

"Nope." Ace denied. "If we get sucked in the whirlpools will tear the sub apart in seconds."

"What." Koala said flatly.

Ace ignored her and continued thoughtfully. "The whirlpools are less 'fast ship-sinking water' and more like giant meat grinders—"

" _What?!_ "

"—but for metal and people and everything else."

" _Wha— Why_  do you sound so calm about that?" Koala snapped.

Ace considered her a moment and shrugged. "There are better things to be scared of." He noticed her ashen skin and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Focus on getting us through. I'll go up top and blast us away if we start getting pulled in a bad direction."

"Can you do that?" Koala asked weakly.

"Yes." Ace said.  _I've done it before._

Koala took a breath. "Okay. Try to tether yourself."

Ace inclined his head. He headed towards the exit and paused. "Stefan, stay. Lay down."

Stefan's ears drooped but he obediently laid down by Koala's seat. Ace hoped the turbulence would not be too much for the dog. He grabbed a length of metal chain and went to the top of the sub, feeling it surface. He opened the hatch and climbed onto the top of the sub before closing it behind him.

The sea roiled around the vessel, which bobbed in place. Up ahead, whirlpools covered the ocean in frothing, violent swirls, each spaced only a few ships-width apart. A big vessel like the Moby Dick would never make it through in one piece. Ace pushed away the thoughts of his not-home and considered the chain he held. He wrapped it around his waist, tying the other end to the hatch. It might not do much, but if it failed, the loop would end. No worries.

Ace felt the sub move forward and exhaled, keeping his stance balanced as he cast out his senses. His vision did not glaze, but his senses distorted becoming clear but hazy at the same time. If Ace had to describe it, he would say his mind was stretching out from his body, making him hyper-aware of his surroundings to a near-painful degree.

Gods, Ace hated using Observation Haki like this. He could use it in little bursts and in some cases for battle, but it seemed even his Haki wanted him to suffer nowadays. Or maybe it was more accurate to say his Haki suffered with him. It was as if Ace's paranoia had infected his Observation Haki to the point where stressful situations left it feeling like exposed nerves during use.

Using it to sense where he wanted to send a bit of flame to? No problem. Using it to locate someone? No problem. Using it in most battles? No problemo.

Using it to navigate a stressful situation that needed extreme reflexes, pinpoint accuracy, and some luck because if he messed up someone— or usually a whole ship of someones— was going to die?

Oh Gods  _everything is wrong_ , so how about some nice sensory overload to ruin his day?

Everything was a burning mass of light in Ace's eyes. Koala, Stefan, the birds above, the sub, the whirlpools,  _everything_. They flickered and flared in his vision like oddly-shaped suns, burning with an intensity that stabbed into his eyes like knives. Ace was not sure how Haki reacted to mental states but he was pretty sure that was not normal. As far as he knew, Observation Haki let the user sense presences and incoming attacks, not…  _everything_  like he sometimes did.

Whether that meant 'everything' had some type of noticeable presence if you trained your Observation Haki enough— _Possible_ — Ace's senses were so intent on sensing any and every danger to his loved ones he could see anything that registered as 'possible threat'—  _Not putting my bets on that one_ — it was a warped version of Katakuri's future sight—  _Doubtful_ — or Ace was crazy and seeing things—  _Likely_ — he did not know. He just knew he saw the whirlpools as glowing masses of  _ow_  and it hurt like a sonovabitch.

The sub sailed towards the whirlpools and the water grew more violent. Koala steered the sub as steadily as she could, but soon she was drifting left. Ace waited until he felt the sub tremble under his feet before he let loose a plume of fire. The sub jerked forward a few yards, safely passing the whirlpool that tried to drag them in.

The next whirlpool yanked at them and Ace was forced to shove them away again. Using his flames to propel the vessel and himself out of the pull was as natural as breathing to him. After all, he had to use similar moves to escape Blackbeard's dreaded Black Hole more times than he could count.

Metal screeched and moaned.

Ace nearly had a heart attack but saw that it was not their sub that was being torn apart, but something else. He looked around and spotted what appeared to be a piece of a ship before it was yanked down into the depths. Near the spot where the ship had sunk, a barrel floated in the raging waves.

Ace's heart stuttered before he realized the barrel was too small for Luffy to fit in and there was no way his idiot little brother could float all the way here from Dawn Island. Luffy looked at the rules of reality and ignored them on a daily basis but even  _that_  feat was beyond his power.

He turned away from the barrel but his spine tingled, and his gaze jerked back to the bobbing barrel. Logic said the thing should have been torn to shreds by the whirlpools, yet it was perfectly content to bob obliviously along.

Curiosity got the best of Ace and he unlooped the chain from around his waist, fashioning it into a lasso. He balanced himself and considered his target, swinging the chain experimentally. Then he threw, and the chain looped perfectly around the barrel. Ace grinned and dragged the barrel towards him. He pulled it atop the sub and tied himself back to the hatch, propping himself up with an elbow on the barrel and keeping it in place.

The sub rocked beneath him but he kept his footing, cringing as a bit of water splashed onto him. He could see calmer waters now—  _shining shimmering calm prettylight_ _ **focus**_ — but did not allow himself to smile. They were not out of danger yet.

A particularly eager pull yanked them sideways, reminding Ace of the times he had been on the bad side of Fujitora. He forced them back on track but a small piece of metal snapped off the side of the sub. In an instant it was disintegrated, as if the whirlpools were made from acid and not water. Ace hoped that piece was not too important. With his luck, it definitely was.

A wave lifted the sub and it dipped into the water, but thankfully the sea failed to reach Ace. He took a breath—  _Focus focus focus_ — and looked ahead. The whirlpools blurred around him, leaving a clear path, and Ace blasted them forward without hesitation. The sub's stern lurched towards a whirlpool but it did not have enough force to pull the sub into its jaws.

And just like that, they were through.

Ace's vision blacked out. He crouched atop the sub, not daring to move until normal colors returned to his eyes, leaving the painful glows of  _everything in his surroundings_  behind. He scanned the calmer waters both behind and ahead of him and took a moment to breathe.

Once he was sure he was not hyperventilating and his vision was stable, Ace dropped the barrel into the sub and followed it. His vision doubled and he missed a rung on the way down, falling to the base of the ladder. He took a shuddering breath and shut his eyes, swallowing his nausea as a headache settled behind his eyes. This was why he left the precision— _stress-stress-_ _ **stress**_ — Observation Haki stuff to Marco, Vista, Sanji, and Usopp, if he was with the Straw Hats that was for the latter two. It was just too— _overwhelming_ _terrifying_ _ **painful**_ — much of a hassle.

He heard Koala's approaching footsteps and forced his eyes open. He grabbed onto a rung of the ladder and used it to support himself, leaning 'casually' against it for a moment. Koala came into sight like an angry orange-and-pink bull and stormed up to Ace, gesturing angrily.

"That was such a stupid idea! I can't  _believe_  you convinced me to do that. You're a Devil Fruit user. If you fell off you would have  _drowned_. And I'd be down there, alone, as your s _tupid_   _ass_  was dragged along—" Koala caught sight of the barrel and stopped ranting. "What is that?"

"I don't know." Ace said as he inspected his acquired cargo. "I saw it bobbing by and fished it out."

Koala's eye twitched. "You  _fished it out_? With the  _chain_?"

"Yep." Ace chirped.

Koala took off his hat and smacked him with it. Ace covered his face with his arm, struggling not to smile or grimace. Her reaction was funny but his head was killing him.

"You're so _stupid!_ " Koala snarled, punctuating each word with a whack. "Just like Sabo! I swear you two are related."

"That's impossible." Ace said blandly, ignoring the ache in his chest.

Koala seemed to notice his shift in mood and stopped trying to murder him with his hat. She plopped it none-too-gently on top of his head— Ace kept his gasp of pain unvoiced— and crossed her arms.

"So, what did you  _risk your life_  for?"

Ace ignored her tone and studied the barrel. "Let's open this up and see. Maybe it's treasure."

Koala muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.

Ace ignored her again and cracked open the barrel to find a small chest inside. "Ooo, it  _is_  treasure. Cool."

"Stupid pirates." Koala muttered.

Ace chuckled at her and studied the chest. It was a simple design; red lined with gold. Nothing too fancy. It was sturdy and looked to be made of a pretty tough material. Its hardiness did not matter, however, because the key was right in the lock.

"So much for keeping the goodies safe." Ace murmured.

He turned the lock, lifted the lid, peeked inside...

...and instantly slammed the chest shut.

"What is it?" Koala paled drastically. "It's not a head or something?"

Ace could not force himself to answer. Cold hands grasped his throat and squeezed his lungs, leaving it difficult for him to breathe. He opened the chest a bit, just to be sure he was not hallucinating, and slammed it shut again.

_This is a joke, right? Haha, so funny I forgot to scream. Thank you for mocking me world, now kindly eff off!_ _I know you hate me, but this is ridiculous. Don't you have something better to do with your time than make my life suck? Huh?_ _**Don't you?!** _

"Ace?  _Ace!_ "

"Huh?" Ace blinked at Nami— Koala. It was Koala.  _Remember where you are._

Koala's blue eyes shone with worry. "Ace, what is in there?"

Ace's lips twitched. He forced back the deranged smile that wanted to twist his face.

"It's the Yami Yami no Mi." he spat.

He barely noticed Koala's confused expression as rage boiled his blood. Theoretically, someone else could have picked up the barrel as it defied logic and bobbed through the whirlpools. Or maybe it was destroyed and reformed elsewhere. Or it may have escaped the whirlpools on its own because the damn thing was a bane of existence like that.  _Theoretically_ , it could have floated off into the sea, maybe picked up by a few people and lost, until it found its way to Thatch in about two to three years.

Instead Ace had  _stumbled upon_  the cursed Devil Fruit.

The one Teach wanted.

The one Teach had betrayed Whitebeard for.

The one Teach had  _killed_  for over and over again.

The one Luffy and Thatch and Marco and everyone had died because of over and over and  _over_ —

If Ace knew how, he would  _destroy_  the thing then and there. But even if he somehow did, it would only reappear as a new fruit. How many times had his brothers died to this thing? How many times did his loop end because of it? How many lives had been ruined all because Blackbeard wanted and later wielded this power?

And now Ace had the Yami Yami no Mi in his hands, but he could do  _nothing_  to destroy it.

Ace glowered at the purple fruit, lip curled with loathing.  _I_ _ **hate**_ _you._

"Stefan." he snapped.

The dog ran up, ears pricked and tail rigid as he heard Ace's sharp tone. Ace opened the chest a little and showed him the Yami Yami no Mi, keeping it away from his curious jaws and tongue.

"Poison." Ace said firmly. "Understand?  _Poison_."

Stefan growled at the Devil Fruit.

Ace relaxed. "Good boy."

"Ace?" Koala's tone was unusually timid as she spoke his name. "What is the Yami Yami no Mi?"

Ace struggled to keep himself calm, and from heading back up the ladder to chuck the chest into the sea. The Fruit would find its way to Thatch or Teach if he did that. He knew it.

"It's a Devil Fruit." he said needlessly. He glared at the chest in utter loathing. "The most evil Devil Fruit in existence. This Fruit is one of the most dangerous on the seas, and the only Devil Fruit I'd call  _cursed_." Ace shoved old memories away and repressed a shiver of disgust. "You don't want this power."

Koala still looked confused. She did not understand. She  _could not_  understand how much this Fruit made Ace's lives  _hell_.

Ace gripped her shoulder and made sure she was looking him in the eyes. "Koala, no matter what happens, no matter how bad a situation seems,  _do not eat this Devil Fruit._  It's not worth it.  _You will die,_ _and so will everything you care about_ _._ "

She flinched but Ace did not take the words back. If Koala ate the Fruit, she would die. Most likely by Teach's hands. The bastard had a knack for locating people who ate 'his' Fruit.

Not to mention how the Yami Yami no Mi  _affected_  the person who dared to eat it…

" _Promise me..."_

Ace shoved the memory away. "Promise me you will never eat this Devil Fruit, no matter what."

Koala locked eyes with him and nodded without hesitation. "I promise."

She did not ask for an explanation. She did not demand to know why she should promise such a thing. She did not inquire how he knew so much about this Devil Fruit. Instead she merely promised. Her trust in him pierced the angry panic that was nearly choking Ace and he lowered his head, unable to look at her.

_Why am I bothering to warn her?_ he thought suddenly.  _This loop won't matter._

He knew the answer to his question and hated himself for it.

_I care about Koala,_ he realized. _I_ _ **care**_ _care. Like I care about Luffy, Thatch, Marco, and the others. I want Koala to_ _ **survive**_ _. But as long as I don't interfere and screw things up, she's fine anyway. I don't need to save her or Revolutionary Sabo in the other timelines. Well, unless I accidentally do something that causes the timeline to get screwed up beyond repair or Blackbeard kills her during the attack on Baltigo..._

He should not have let this happen. He should not have gotten attached. But it was too late. He had permanently added another person to his list of 'need to make sure survives', complicating his timeline further. Worse, he was just setting himself up for more pain.

When he reset, he would remember Koala, but she would not remember him. She would not care about him unless he went out of his way to find her and forge a friendship with her. But doing so would mess up the timeline.

_Why can't I do anything right?_

Ace forced himself to stop moping and gently closed the lid of the chest, sitting back on his heels.

"Do you have a safe on this sub that is hard to get into?"

He could not destroy the Yami Yami no Mi and keep everyone safe from it, but he could do his damn best to make sure  _no one_  got their hands on it.

He had a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was said in-story a while back (at least a a couple times) but I think some people missed or forgot those sections so here's a reminder: Ace does not remember Sabo's face and he has given up on the idea that Revolutionary Sabo is his Sabo. It's been so long since his childhood (he wasn't joking about the thousand-years thing) that most of his childhood memories are vague at best. The childhood memories he does "remember" he's not even sure are accurate or real.
> 
> He tried to see if Revolutionary Sabo was his Sabo early on in his looping adventures, but gave up after many failed attempts and a lot of hurt. (Any time Sabo remembered his brothers it was after Luffy was killed— since when Ace dies, the loop resets— but it was too late. Sabo never found Ace in time since Ace vanished and went off-grid in order to hunt Luffy's killer down before swiftly dying himself. He has no reason to keep going if Luffy dies because he knows if he acts differently Luffy can survive.)
> 
> To Ace, the repeated hope that Revolutionary Sabo was his Sabo became the equivalent of Ace intentionally stabbing himself in the chest with a rusty knife. He'd just be tearing open old wounds and it just hurts him for no reason. Eventually, he gave up on the idea so he doesn't have to go through that unnecessary pain again because he may be broken but he's not a masochist who seeks out ways to hurt himself.
> 
> If someone asked him to believe Revolutionary Sabo was his Sabo, he'd react like they were asking him to stab himself in the heart aka "Are you freaking nuts?" or "Do you really hate me so much that you'd say that to me?" It's going to take something big for him to realize the truth.
> 
> Sorry to smack you over the head with this but this is kinda important, haha.
> 
> IMPORTANT: This version of the story is now caught up to the Fanfiction version. That means I don't have more chapters to upload at the moment. From now on, updates are going to be whenever I have a chapter finished, so don't expect another chapter next Tuesday, okay?


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